The Switch
by RetroButter
Summary: In his drunken rage, Arthur casted a spell on Francis, causing him to de-age by at least half a millennia. However there is a side-effect: His son Matthew Williams matured 500 years ahead of his time. Hilarity and chaos ensue. FACE-centric
1. Prologue

**The Switch**

**{ Prologue }**

"Mathieu!"

The light and high-pitched voice immediately assaulted Matthew William's senses. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking his blurry amethyst depths, wondering who it was. He tried to focus, only to feel dulling pain in his sockets.

_I couldn't have had that many beers last night_

"Wake up, sleepy head!" The figure spoke once more, who by this time, have crawled over and is looming above him, tapping his cheek. He can only make out the individual's crown of golden blond hair and petite frame. Judging by the high pitch, it's female, probably in her early teens.

And why is she sitting on top of him?

"W-who?" He mouthed the words slowly, sitting up. He clasped the girl's slender wrist. His eyes hurting even more as he tried to focus on her face. Her blond hair just seemed to _glow_. Oh how he hated hang overs.

She tilted her head to the side, "Oh my poor dear, what have he done to you?"

She also had blue eyes. Blond hair, blue eyes, the rest of the details are still a blur. She is sitting on his torso, her slender legs folded on his sides. She seemed to be wearing his polo shirt from last night-and nothing else.

"Whoah!" He quickly lets go of her wrist, then clumsily tried to get up and scramble for his glasses. The young girl got up immediately, giggling as 'she' watched in utter amusement.

"I will be downstairs, mon cher. I will explain everything during breakfast!" she chirped, twirling around before heading out of the door and downstairs.

A young girl, a young _french_ girl.

"I...I'm probably seeing things." Matthew mumbled, slapping himself lightly on both cheeks as he headed towards the bathroom. A nice, hot quick shower. That's what he needs right now.

"Hurry, breakfast is getting cold!"

Matthew twitched. Maybe water splashing on his face will make him see things clearly.

Scratching his sides and wearing nothing but his maple leaf printed boxers, he went towards the sink and bent over it, splashing cold water on his face. He briefly looked up.

_Odd,_ he blinked in front of the mirror, rubbing his chin. _I remember shaving last evening..._

Meanwhile downstairs, the young blond girl from earlier is waiting impatiently for Matthew to arrive by the dining area, 'her' slender legs dangling and swinging about from her chair as she reached for her glass of wine.

With both hands, she held on the glass and carefully sipped from it, a liquid trail of fire burns down her throat a little. She hears some commotion upstairs and lets out a heavy sigh. Swishing the contents with one hand, she lifted the glass up, leveling it to her lazy blue gaze.

"Trois..."

The stumbling became louder.

"Deux..."

There is a surprised shout, probably Matthew struggling to get in a pair of pants.

"Un."

He slams the glass of wine on the table and Matthew immediately barges out of his room, his face was bright red and he was panting. As 'she' have guessed, his pants were undone and it was a little too tight in certain areas. A purring sound almost escaped her mouth.

"Well, well..._bonjour_."

Matthew was gasping, his jaw moving but he can't form the words from his mouth.

"Papa?" he cried out, finally realizing who the young girl was. He made frantic hand gestures, as if words are not enough to express or describe what just had happened. "Wha-What is this? Wha-" He pointed at Francis Bonnefoy, his Papa, looking very much like he was during the middle ages: a young effeminate lad that could pass as a female.

And he seemed to enjoy it too, for some reason. Matthew can still not unsee the horror he saw at the mirror few minutes ago. He has matured in ways he is not ready for. For a minute, he thought he was staring at his Papa's reflection.

Then he realized it was his.

"Angleterre." he explained calmly, jumping off the chair, meeting Matthew who has stumbled half-way, still trying to get used to his suddenly mature and stockier physique. "He ez ze only one capable of doing zis to moi. he ez the culprit!"

_Well, that would explain everything. _Matthew thought grimly. His two 'parents' have always been at odds with each other since probably the time immemorial. Even last night during a party, Alfred had to pry a soaking wet, screaming drunken Arthur from him, threatening he would have his revenge. Matthew cannot recall what his Papa did that time, but upon seeing the snickering Gilbert and Antonio outside, he assumed he has once more been fooling around with his Dad just for the heck of it.

So how did he get into this mess?

"That's what I want to know as well!" Francis said, as if he read his son's mind. He reached for his hand and tugged it. "But first, breakfast."

The visibly shaken Matthew reluctantly followed him towards the dining area, sitting at their respective places. "You will have crepes." He pointed out, as Matthew stared disappointingly at his food plate. "I know how much you love pancakes, dear. But when you have a gorgeous body like that you will need something healthier!"

"A..Alright." Matthew stammered, reaching out for a fork and knife wearily. His hands are still trembling. "Papa," he asked, and then paused briefly. Should Francis be even drinking that much wine in his young physical form? "What now? Should I contact Dad about this?"

"Oh, no need!" he laughed lightly, dismissing the notion with the saucy flick of his hand. He sips from his glass once more. "That's already taken care of!"

Somehow, Matthew feels that whatever his Papa is planning, it's not going to be a good one.

**A/N:** To be continued. This is just SO short. Well, it IS a prologue. Kudos to my friend claudiakat who did the beta/re-phrasing and making Francis's language as authentic as possible.


	2. Chapter 1: Don't drink and Hex

**The Switch**

**{ Chapter 01 - Don't drink and hex}**

_Last Night - During a World Event Post-Awards Party_

"Where is he?" Arthur spat, soaking wet from head to foot as he slammed the doors wide open. It caught little attention: everyone else was busy having a good time in there. He strode in furiously, looking like a wet dog and missing one shoe as he searched for Bonnefoy.

From outside, one can catch a glimpse of Gilbert and Antonio trying to suppress their laughter.

"Where is that bloody pillock? He is going to get it!" He roared, which again made little difference, unless Arthur's shout can match the loud blaring music inside.

"Hey!" A cheery Asian with a hair curl perked up, approaches the bar area where Alfred is drinking, tapping his shoulder. The bespectacled blond turned around. "You have been looking for your old man right?" He pointed with his thumb, "He is over there!"

Alfred placed his drink down and tilted his head a little, trying to scan the surroundings behind Yong Soo. With the bright amalgam of flashing colors and sea of people's heads, its difficult to spot Arthur at first-until he saw him dripping wet and flailing, his angry brows contorted in an angry frown as he struggled to surge forward. Alfred heads out towards him and as he came nearer, he saw his clothes and his brows raised up to his hairline.

Wearing assorted jewelry, tight torn jeans and a leather vest, Arthur Kirkland looks like he is having a mid-life crisis.

"Whoa!" he hollered, "Hey pops, wait up!" Arthur didn't bother turning around, moving faster as his vision homed in on a certain Frenchman who is clearly enjoying himself, conversing and flirting with a group of women by the lounge area. Alfred's eyes squinted only to cringe after seeing what the man was wearing, for only Francis is man enough to pull off an impossible pair of man-leggings. These two are really HAVING some serious mid-life crisis.

"Francis!"

"Why, hello there, mon cherie~" he purred, turning around to face his comrade. "Enjoying the party?"

"Enjoy _this_!"

Arthur's fist almost came in contact with the Frenchman's jaw if Alfred wasn't there to stop him and pull him away.

"You!" he turned around, struggling with the strength of Alfred's grip. "You stay away from this, you meddling prat! This is none of your bloody business!"

"Hold it. Are you drunk?"

"I'm..I'm not!" he sputtered. It was an obvious lie, as Arthur reeked with the scent of scotch. "-Let me go!"

Alfred rolled his eyes as he pulled Arthur away, and then looking at Francis, who merely returned his exasperation with a naughty wide smile.

It's probably better off not knowing what the two were arguing about this time.

"What a spoil sport!" he laughed and said something in French that Alfred certainly didn't understand, but Arthur caught it quickly and wriggled violently against the American's grip once more.

"C'mon! Dad!" Alfred grunted, "You're causing a scene!"

"Mon petit..."

"Ahhh!" Arthur broke from Alfred's hold, long enough to grab Francis's arm. He lets out an evil snicker.

"Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis iste natus error sit voluptatem accusantium doloremque-" his voice trembles with malicious excitement, as he took hold on Francis's arm with such a vicious grip. "eaque ipsa quae-"

"That's it!" Alfred growled, mustering enough strength to yank off the drunk and half-crazy Englishman. Arthur let out a strangled cry as Alfred pried him off and whisked him over his shoulder casually like a sack of potatoes. "You're batshit crazy! We're going home!"

"Ahhh! Bugger you! Put mer down you berk!"

A stream of English curses flew out continuously from Arthur's mouth as Alfred whisked him away, kicking and struggling over his shoulder. This time it created quite a scene and the crowd quickly made way for them to pass through as Alfred headed out to the nearest exit.

"What happened?" came a soft voice. "Are they alright?"

Francis glanced at the fast approaching figure smartly dressed in a charcoal gray suit and pinstriped blue shirt. "Ah, Alfred! That was fast~!"

The tall figure frowned, he was holding a small tray filled with various bottles of liquor and handed it to Francis. "Very funny, Papa." Matthew said sarcastically, looking visibly miffed. "Of all people you should-"

"Papa ez joking!" He laughed, placing the tray down as the women excitedly get their drinks."You should have seen the look on your face~! Mignon! Come now, cher. Du calme!"

" Uhum. Bien sûr, Papa..." Matthew warily glanced at the exit, he swore he heard loud English cursing, a loud sickening thud and something getting smashed into pieces. "What did you do to Dad this time? I saw him trying to beat you up a while ago..."

"Ah! It's nothing!" he exclaimed, dramatically swiping his blond hair as he exudes sparkles. Matthew rolled his eyes. "You know Angleterre, he eez a tempestous one! He eez overcome by his emotions upon seeing my gorgeous self again!"

"Ez..I mean is there anything else you need, Papa?" Matthew sighed, "I will be joining the guys over there in a few minutes and I wouldn't back for a while so let me know."

"It's okay, my dear. I can take it from here." He re-assured him with a nod, "You can go to your friends now."

Matthew politely excused himself from his Papa's company and they responded in kind by sending giggles and flirtatious looks towards his direction, enough to make him squirm. As he turned around to leave, Francis gave him a playful slap on the rump, surprising him.

"P-Papa!" he yelped, his face growing red. "C'mon!"

"You want another one, mon fils~?"

"NO!"

And with that, Matthew immediately left. He can still hear his Papa's laughter as he caught up with his other brother nations.

"That would be my boy, Mathieu. He ez one of the 'biggest' in ze whole world!" He can hear his Papa say. "After all, he does take from moi...if you know what I mean!"

"I'm sorry I'm late!" Matthew apologized to the taciturn Asian and to their other brothers waiting quietly on the other end of the room. "But knowing Papa..."

"That's alright, mate." the most tanned among them answered, "We all know how it's like...so yeah!"

"Are you alright?" The Asian nation with slightly thick brows asked, looking concerned. "You look a little pale."

"Oh it's nothing!" Matthew shrugged, "I probably need some fresh air. So, are we heading out yet?"

* * *

><p>"You should have let me-huurggh!"<p>

"Dad, NO! NOT at the CARPETING!" Alfred turned around, almost unbuckling himself as he tried to toss some tissue rolls at Arthur. "Great! Just... GREAT!" He lifted his hands in exasperation, "I just had that washed the other day!"

The older blond wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, "Bollocks..." he groaned weakly as he tried to sit up, only to end up groggily slumping at the back of the driver's seat. His green depths looking glazed as he turned his attention to Alfred.

"Arr you even my boy?" he drawled from the corner of his mouth, "Well, are you?"

"Here we go again..."

"You look nothing like meh, even have hish eyesh!" It sounds like he is starting to cry, "Hish bloody brows and his blue eyesh..."

Alfred sighed, turning the ignition of the vehicle and starts to drive away, turning the player on, just loud enough to drown Arthur's moping while hitting his forehead repeatedly on his new leatherette covered car seats. Alfred stole a quick glimpse of him from the mirror as he finally collapsed to the back seat, whimpering.

It is a strange evening, when they came for the event, it looked like the older ones are dressed like they're trying to relive their glory days (or something like it). Suddenly, he felt he and Matthew are a bit _too_ overdressed for the occasion.

At that moment his phone started to ring, playing to the tune of the star-spangled banner. He flipped it open.

"Yo, Matt!" he answered the other line, "I'm on the road right now, so yeah. What's up?"

He quickly glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, Dad just had too much drinks. " he chuckled, as Arthur slowly slipped from his view by the mirror and collapsed face down groaning on the seat. "As always. Didn't expect him to create a scene though. What happened anyways? Huh, You don't have a clue?"

"I wur huv my rehvungh..."

"Oh! You found his shoe!" He laughed, "Well...I didn't notice THAT was missing! I think that would explain why he is dripping wet. Nope, I dunno why he got wet either. But it seemed like old man Francis was involved, so I guess it's better off not knowing! Haha!"

"Hul seee"

"Heh, just take it home with you! I'll tell him to get it once he is sober!" He glanced over his shoulder again, "Ahaha! You should have seen this! He is face planting on his own puke right now!"

Arthur let out another moaning sound, cursing as he tried to push himself up, realizing he is lying in his own pool of vomit. "We are almost here now, I think he is awake, catch ya later or something, bye!"

* * *

><p>Arthur vaguely remembers the events that transpired that evening, he recalls being drunk-and pissed. Very pissed with Francis Bonnefoy for some reason he hardly remembered, but he knew it involved the hotel's pool and his Bad Touch friends.<p>

And there is Alfred, whom he told him to wait for him since they were supposed to discuss something-he also forgot what it was, but he took the responsibility of calming him down and taking him home. Alfred F. Jones, in one of the rare times that he gets to act maturely, pried him off of Francis and took him home, made sure he is alright and not break anything before he left.

Oh dear lord, he remembers it now, he puked in his bloody car.

"_Ahaha! You should have seen this! He's face planting on his own puke right now!" _

He swore he heard something click and some snickering as he tried to lift himself up. _Goddamn it, that git! I will get him for this!_

But first thing's first, why on God's green earth is he in the bloody attic?

"What the..." Arthur grumbled, trying to move his lips from the dusty wooden floor. He probably passed out there, because the last thing he remembered is Alfred clearing the living room as he tried to get him to sit down, and now, he somehow he ended up in the attic.

He slowly got up from the floor, pushing himself up wearily, blinking a couple of times as he tried to steady himself, getting his vision to focus. There are chalk-drawn markings on the floor which led towards an intricate circular pattern a few feet in ahead of him. A slight distance away from his left were several books, thrown into a corner, most of them open. Some of the pages have been torn and scattered all over the room.

What did he do? He asked himself. He couldn't remember who all this came to be. "Heavens, I don't remember doing any of this!" He finally said out loud, his eyes searched frantically as he scanned the room, fumbling over the books, the incantations, to find any clue or indication to what he did. He is not familiar with the circular pattern , it's probably one of those spells from long ago that he didn't use often.

With notes, torn pages on his hands; books and scrolls tucked underneath each arm, he paused for awhile, panting, staring at the circle as he stood barefoot right in the middle. It's very-bloody intricate, he couldn't believe how he was able to draw and write all of this during his drunken state.

"Relax, Arthur. Relax.." Arthur closed his eyes briefly, trying to figure and sift mentally through all his acquired esoteric knowledge from the past millennias, trying to recall anything or something, from the past night that could give him a clue.

Suddenly he was overwhelmed by a strong wave of nausea and a pounding headache. Of course, a hangover. He muttered a curse under his breath, pressing a palm over his right eye, mentally exerting himself. "What did I do..." he asked himself helplessly.

Then his phone started to ring. Arthur almost tripped over. He didn't realize it was in his back pocket until this morning.

"Hello?" He answered, raking one hand towards his hair, glancing at the phone. There is no record of the number. "Who is this?" he asked irritatedly, "Oh..it's you Matthew. You changed numbers? You didn't? Well it's not in the directory...anyway...what is it? My shoe? You called me for just my bloody...Hello? What's that screaming?" Arthur winced at what sounds like a shrill, high-pitch voice at the background. "Your Papa? Did he take a girl home? No? Well, I can't hear you! You need to stop whispering, son! What is it-"

There came a loud crash and the other line went dead.

"Hello? Matthew! Matthew!"

It was then that a fragment of what happened last evening flashed before Arthur. He remembered clawing himself away from Alfred's grip, grabbing Bonnefoy's arm for a good few minutes, laughing manically, muttering something.

"_Sed ut perspiciatis unde omnis..."_

His eyes widened, finally connecting the dots of last night and the sudden urgent phone call.

"Shit-!" Without a minute to spare, Arthur ran out of the room.

* * *

><p><em>Few Hours later<em>

After rushing for a hot shower and immediately hitting the road, Arthur tried to reach Matthew on his phone to no avail. He's not answering it, but he's certain that his soft-spoken son is with his Father, so he decided that the first place to stop by is his place.

No sooner has he reached the front door did Arthur start rapping furiously, only to realize, much to his embarrassment, that there is a doorbell. Just as he was about to press the button, the door finally opened. The tall blond figure stood wearily, rubbing his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and maple boxers peeking out of the sides.

"I came for Matthew, where is he?" He spat, looking straight ahead and letting himself in, not noticing the confused expression on the other blond's face. "I know he's here. He called me. There was screaming. There's a girl here too! What have you done to him?"

"T-There is no girl."

"I knew what I heard!" He bristled, calling out as he went in, "Matthew!"

"D-Don't!"

"What is it now, Frog?" He turned around furiously, stomping forward when he noticed the peeking undergarment. The jeans are starting to give way. Francis just have the natural ability to shed clothes at will, especially in front of him. "I gave those maple boxers to him last Christmas! Why are you wearing them?"

"Dad!" the blond cried, affixing his glasses and then shaking him. "It's me, Matthew!"

"Unhand me you, per-" then the words finally sunk into him. He sputtered, his eyes widening. The well structured face with that all-familiar facial hair is definitely Francis, but the eyes, they were of a shade of purple.

"God Save the Queen..." he gasped. But wasn't Francis the one he...

"VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE!" came a shrilll voice, making Arthur turn around, he was greeted by a pair of furious bright blue eyes, a flash of blond hair and a frying pan solidly striking his face.

And everything went black.

* * *

><p>Wake up, ma cherie~"<p>

Arthur felt the left side of his face throbbing as he slowly swam into consciousness.

"Wake up! I know you can hear me!"

This is the second time he passed out within the day, with little recollection on what has transpired earlier, he felt somebody's weight pressing on his torso and tiny fists pounding on his chest.

Oh god, why is that annoying voice _so familiar_.

He slowly opened his eyes. He's in someone's room and the bright light is making his head pound once more. He remembered driving all the way from his place to reach Matthew and when he came in...

He blinked, finally realizing that a very young and feminine Francis is staring down at him, sitting on his belly with a frying pan on his grip.

He then remembered what happened.

"Oh, bloody hell no!" He sat up with a start, only to be shoved back by Francis's bare foot.

"Oh, bloody oui!" He remarked, making an emphasis on the last word, jumping up and pressing one foot hard against the Englishman's jaw. "You have some explaining to do, Angleterre! I want some answers!" he shouted, as a white creature loomed behind him.

_Is that Kumajiro? Even the bear has transformed?_

"Mrff-" Arthur struggled. Even in his reduced petite frame, Francis still proves to be quite formidable, pinning him down on the floor with one foot on his face and the other by his arm. He's only wearing a loose collared shirt that, Arthur believes, belonged to Matthew.

And nothing else underneath, as the englishman dreadfully realized. The now de-aged Francis is standing with legs wide open as he hovered above him, giving him quite a view.

"Then let me, you idiot!" He yelled, taking hold of the feet underneath his jaw and giving him one strong shove, making Francis trip backwards and temporarily lose momentum. The blond took this opportunity to snatch the lethal pan away, tossing it aside and pushing Francis hard enough for him to fall back on the floor. By this time, Arthur's face was already blue."A-And put something on underneath that shirt!"

"Pourquoi?" he tilted his head on the side, mockingly asking as he sat with his legs partially spread open. "Don't you like what you see?"

Before Arthur can have his rebuttal, he heard a low growl and saw Matthew's polar bear once more. So he wasn't seeing things. Francis took this distraction as an opportunity and leap up to his feet, charging towards Arthur.

"Papa, enough!"

"Waah!"

He almost forgot about Matthew. Suddenly he was there behind him, his lean long arms reaching out and pulling him into a tight embrace. With Francis's de-aged state, Matthew was a giant, even taller than him and Arthur by a good few inches even before being accelerated to his current form. His height matched his strength, a fact that hardly anyone knew since people keep forgetting him or mistaking him for Alfred.

"Let me go!" He struggled in his grip, as Arthur tried to register the chaos around him."Listen to your Papa! This ez for the best!"

"No, it's not!" Matthew argued, trying to press the wriggling figure close to him, "Beating Dad for answers won't solve anything!"

"Zis eez how we did it for centuries! Do not question my authority!"

"And how many times have you won an argument trying to beat Dad up?"

Francis stopped struggling.

"Yeah, I thought so too." Matthew sighed, his arms finally relaxing around his paternal figure. "We can resolve this like grown-ups. He wouldn't be here if he wasn't worried about me."

Francis mumbled, but not loud enough to be heard. "Only you?"

Arthur watched in disbelief, the de-aging has affected the Frog's behavior in more ways than one and observed him throw a brief tantrum in his son's loose embrace while slowly getting reduced to tears.

"He can do anything to moi! Beat me up, seize my vital regions, t-turn me into burnt pudding! b-but-" he stammered, sniffing as his blue round eyes mists up. "But look what he did to you, mon garcon!"

"I-it's not intentional...he is drunk at that time remember?" Matthew said awkwardly, trying to re-assure him yet not knowing what to do. Francis is rubbing both eyes with one hand as Matthew slowly pulled him close. He then looked over his Papa's shoulder and to a gawking Arthur, "I'm sure he didn't mean this. Am I right...Dad?"

"Y-yes..." Arthur nodded, swallowing hard. "I came here to explain."

Which is hard, seeing them like this. He thought grimly.

"I lost you once! Do you know how hard it was for me, having no choice but to give you up? Do you know how it hurts knowing he will feed you with all zat sad excuse of a cuisine?" He cried, "He treats you like you're not even there and now this...this is beyond unforgivable!"

"Nobody's perfect, Papa." he re-assured him once more, "Look, I turned out fine! And he said he can explain everything. Come now!" He gently prodded him towards the nearest chair, by the kitchen counter. "Everything will be alright, please...stop crying now..."

"I'm not crying.." Matthew heard him grumble weakly. "And...Matthew?"

"Yes?"

"Can you lift Papa up? S'il vous plaît? My dainty legs cannot reach the chair."

* * *

><p>Francis has considerably calmed down after crying (which he still wouldn't admit. Pouting and mumbling that he was merely 'appalled' by what has happened to his favorite son.) and along with Matthew, patiently listened to Arthur's explanation.<p>

"Papa, I believe him." Matthew said, looking at the small pouting face drinking a glass of fruit juice. "When I meet up with the guys, I called Alfred up to know what happened. Dad was really terribly drunk, which is why he hardly recalls anything!"

"Oh? How drunk?"

"Uhm...Alfred sent me a pic as a proof..."

"Let me see~"

"Oh no you don't!" Arthur quickly reached out, stopping Matthew from taking out his cellphone. "Matthew, that is not necessary-" he glared at the smirking Francis, "Whatever Alfred sent you last night, delete it now!"

"Or you can just tell me, dear heart."

Matthew looks torn, "Dad passed out face down on his own vomit..."

"I figured." Francis resisted the urge to burst out giggling as Arthur shot him a deathly glare. "But that does not explain how you got affected and that's what I want to know."

"Delete it, Matthew. NOW."

"Y-yes..."

"As I told you before..." Arthur answered, his gaze not leaving Matthew's phone until the discriminating photos were deleted. "I can't remember what I exactly did, but I do remember it was only YOU that I cast a curse upon."

"And that curse was?"

"I only remembered a few words when I took hold of you...I know it has something to do with time and balance."

"But why my Mathieu? What has he got to do with any of zis? It's me you want!"

Arthur placed both palms on his forehead, sighing heavily. He tried to figure that out as well. Then it hit him. "Wait." he said, looking up with a start. "Did you have any form of physical contact with anyone after I cursed you?"

"Non..." Francis pondered wistfully, "I only held my fine glass of wine zat evening. And all these women all they do was talk about zemselves..."

"Papa, you did."

"Moi?"

"Before I left, you squeezed my bottom. Remember?" Matthew continued, "You even asked me if I want another!"

Francis blinked a couple of times, slowly straightening up as the words sunk in. "Oh dear..." he tapped his fingers on the table edges, biting his lip. "I think I do remember doing that..."

Arthur facepalmed, "There you have it!" he exclaimed, "You passed it on to Matthew!"

Then came a brief moment of silence, before Matthew finally spoke up, shifting uncomfortably. "So...uh...what will happen now? To the two of us?"

"I'll go back and check in my library once more." Arthur answered, "If there's any clue to which incantation I used in particular, I can sort it out from the pile. It might take awhile, because I'm not familiar with it at all. this...it's...it's probably a spell that I haven't used for god knows how long or something I shouldn't even be using."

"Well, you can try asking someone else for help?" Francis asked, swinging his legs under the chair as he propped his chin on his hands, looking at Arthur impatiently. "Our dilemma will be resolved faster that way."

"Don't be foolish! No one is as familiar with what I do or have the same knowledge as..."

Francis smiled.

Arthur's face grew pale, "NO! I'm not asking my brothers' help for this!"

"Your _older_ brothers, Angleterre." Francis rolls his eyes, "If there is anything beyond you, it is highly possible that they know all about it."

"You just want to know how _he_ is doing!" Arthur sputtered, a dash of red becoming evident on his cheeks.

"And when he sees me now I assume flames of young love will be re-kindled once more~!" Francis answered sarcastically, to which Matthew reacted by facepalming. The blond reached out from across the table, giving Arthur a quick headslap. "I'm not just referring to him, you imbecile! You have other brothers, the one who lives near you for instance!"

"Yes Dad, he seemed pretty nice!" Matthew agreed, "Except that one time when we have a Rugby match or was that football..."

"Wait!...what?"

"Well Papa thought I need to learn from the best when it came to field sports so he told me t..." and Matthew was abruptly cut off when Francis kicked him from underneath. "Yeow!"

"And I don't know this?"

"What? You are not his only parent!" Francis pouted, as Matthew whimpered clutching his leg underneath the table. "He needed assistance and I have closer ties to them than you, your own kin!" He saw Arthur's brow twitch. "Zat's right. Brings back memories, non?"

"Enough already!" Arthur pounds his fists on the table, "I get it! I'm going to pay them a visit and see what happens. There! Satisfied?"

"Completely~!"

Matthew can almost feel the heated stares the two are silently exchanging. "So...it's settled then? Dad...Papa?"

Arthur was the first to break away from the stare, standing up. "Yes, Matthew." he answered wearily, grabbing his coat. "I will head back home, grab a few notes and call them up."

"Pay them a visit!"

"Yes, I will also pay them a visit." He said against gritted teeth, glaring at Francis before turning back to Matthew. "This might take awhile, so if you feel anything strange, just call me up and let me know."

"You mean, both of us." Francis answered, trying to get down the chair with some difficulty. It's one of the disadvantages of being reduced to his youthful state. Matthew sighed and helped him down, sensing the sadness and disappointment in his Papa's voice.

"Well, I suppose you can manage." Arthur said tersely, not even bothering to look up. "For now, the only choice both of you have is to adjust to your current bodies. And you-" he pointed at Francis, like a father scolding a child. "You will not have a problem with that, but Matthew will need a lot of time getting used to his."

They both turned to Matthew, looking awkward and uncomfortable in his sudden 'growth.' He resembled the frog in some physical aspects that sent shivers to Arthur's spine. In fact, mistaking him as Francis earlier, with the same toned built and the...hair. No doubt, the hair. No he is not referring to his blond locks, but the bloody hair that is all over his body and his face. He watched as the lad scratched his chin impatiently and rubbed his arms about, feeling naked with only a loose robe draped over his shoulders.

"..I...I will try shaving later." He said, as if to answer Arthur's mortified expression. "-or have myself waxed, I dunno."

"Non!" Francis squealed, almost piercing both of their eardrums. "You are not going to get rid of ze body hair! Non! I wouldn't allow it!"

"But Papa!" Matthew objected, standing up and towering Francis. "It's uncomfortable! I'm-I'm not used to all this hair!"

"By now, we all know you have inherited my gorgeous looks. It's no longer a surprise that you will grow zat amount of hair in a few centuries!" He threw his arms in the air, "You might as well get used to it now!"

"I suggest you shave, Matthew." Arthur pointed out, ignoring the puffed little blond-framed face in front of him. "Waxing will be bloody painful. Make sure you wear your glasses all the time..."

"I wear my glasses all the time."

"That's good...jolly good." Arthur cannot bring himself to look at Matthew straight in the eye, despite the lad's harmless expression."Tie your hair. Make sure that curl of yours really stands out. I mean, it's already bad you're being mistaken for that idiot brother of yours-"

"I'm sorry..."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Matthew!"

"Dad, you're terrified of me. I know it's because of the way I look-" he points at himself, "I look very much like Papa."

"Oui!"

"NO!" He almost screamed, "That's not it, Matthew! Look-" he grabbed him by his arms. "This is just on the outside! Deep inside you are still my sweet, polite, little Matthew..."

"I doubt the 'little part'...ahonhon..."

"Shut up, Francis!"

" Dad, I-I'll be just fine... I think I'll be going out to er... get something... that fits... "

Arthur sighed and gave his son a pat on the shoulder. Those shoulders felt quite harder than usual and it made Arthur feel extremely uncomfortable. " And will you please give your... your father some decent clothes. Your clothes are making him look like..."

Francis cocked an eloquently phrased eyebrow. " Like what, Angleterre?"

Arthur snorted. " Will you please help your son get through this phase at least? You're enjoying your second lease in youth while he has to grapple with everything you are... or were. I will be going now and I don't want you causing him anymore trouble."

Francis excitedly grabbed Matthew's hand. " So we are going shopping, mon fils?"

Matthew sighed. " It's not actual shopping, Papa. We'll be getting some clothes for you so you won't feel too small in mine. At least until Dad figures out how to get us back to normal."

" As soon as possible." Arthur agreed and opened the door. " This has to be done quickly before anyone else figures out what happened and everything falls into utter chaos. I will be going now Matthew. I'll be checking up on you and the frog later."

"Okay, Dad."

"Au Revoir~!"

Arthur grunted, briefly glancing worriedly at Matthew before heading towards his car. As they both watched his vehicle head out of the main driveway, Francis squeezed Matthew's hand tight.

"I think we better get going now..." Matthew whispered, "I still have some extra cash with me from last night, we could drive by the local outlet and..."

"NON!" Francis stomped his foot. Honestly, his Papa's habit of suddenly shouting is going to give him a heart attack, if it's possible or worse, a burst eardrum. "Have you forgotten, who I am, garcon? I would rather impale my bottom on cacti than don such cheaply manufactured clothes!"

"Papa!" Matthew rubbed his ear, tugging Francis back inside, closing the door behind them. "Be reasonable! I don't have that kind of money with me!"

"Oui, you don't." He answered happily, "But I have a special priviledge card! You look for ze owner, show it, and 80% off in all the latest items! If they're in a better mood, we get everything for free!"

"R-really?"

"Really!" he chirped, "Now, try to get into some of your comfier clothes and let's go to your car! Hurry! The shops will open in about half an hour!"

Matthew caught up with his excitable father, "Well it's not exactly a car...it's more like a Jeep actually."

"Car, Jeep.. Who cares! Let's go!" He hopped excitedly towards the stairs and twirled around. " Oh... And Matthew?"

"Yes?"

"We will buy some new clothes for YOU as well!"

**A/N**: AHHH LOL readers need to read.

- I blitz this chapter for 1-2 days with claudiakat, so if there are wrong terms let me know :B

- I was inspired by Pepe Le Pew. Even one line that Francis said there is derived from one of his many quotes. I don't know anymore :T

- I do not follow canon and Matt here is about a little over 6 ft and Pansy!Francis probably almost around 5 ft...or less

- Wrote this before April Fool's blood bath :3

- Arthur and his OC!Brothers: The first one brought up is Scotland (when Francis mentioned sarcastically the 'rekindling of young love') and the other one is Wales. I read a couple of fics involving this OC (by the talented candesceres) and is often described as being Proto-Canada o_O... I'm not going to elaborate them here, but imho, they're well-versed with magic and folklore probably even a little better than their brother XD who knows? The rugby/football incident is random sry ._.

- Arthur's incantation is derived from word generators, it's supposed not to make sense.

- Alfred and Matthew will always, in my head canon (and in this fic at least), will refer to Arthur as DAD.


	3. Chapter 2: Makeover

**The Switch**

**{ Chapter 02 – Makeover}**

**A/N: **I think I need to place my notes in the beginning to give people fair warning. Uh, first, at least ¼ of this chapter is co-written by my friend Kat, who helped with ze French accents and the beta-ing while I type this. Which is why updates are kind of fast. I'm sorry if we butcher the romantic language in any way ;; Also I try describing fashion here, but I'm not used to terms and stuff so...yeah XD

This chapter have lots of Francis x Matthew fatherly bonding. Next chapter will be the other half of the family.

* * *

><p>Nobody shops like Francis. He is a man with impeccable taste and shopping to him is almost like a form of art, a mastered skill. It will take him hours just browsing through items, scrutinizing the quality between his fingertips and criticizing every detail and muttering how he could have done better-which is why Matthew avoids every chance to go shopping with his Papa, from clothes to groceries. However, because of the current bizarre and complicated situation, this time he couldn't say no.<p>

Getting him to wear his clothes proved quite difficult. Matthew insisted he wear something other than just a shirt and gave him a pair of slacks, long sleeves and a vest; clothes that he has outgrown ages ago. Francis stubbornly refused to wear them at first, commenting that they're too 'loose and frumpy' for his taste until the taller blond firmly pointed out the time remaining before the shops open.

Matthew swore he never saw his Papa move so fast. In less than 15 minutes, he's completely dressed from head to foot, and the poor lad had to run to catch up to him as he climbed excitedly inside his Jeep.

"What ez this?" He heard him gasp as he got to the front seat, buckling himself. "Empty beer bottles? Why ez there grass?"

"I wasn't expecting company, Papa." Matthew grumbled, sitting beside him and inserting the key to the ignition. He turned it and the vehicle quickly roared to life. "And please, hold on tight."

* * *

><p>And Matthew thought his Dad, Arthur Kirkland, is a terrible backseat driver.<p>

His Papa insisted that they hurry and he reluctantly obliged. They took to his jeep, since it's the only vehicle near the driveway and as soon as they sped out to the main road, his Papa is already screaming out every colorful word in the French language.

It was a good thing though that his Papa has a thick blond mass of hair, as the wind blew it on his face, it muffled his screams. He tried to push his locks away, but as Matthew made sharp turns he kept falling backwards. By the time they made it to the boardwalk where all the expensive shops are, his ears have nearly fallen off his head and a purple-faced Francis looked like he was mauled by three hairdressers.

" You..." He made an effort to keep from expelling something out of his system. " Mon Dieu, do not drive like that again! Are you trying to kill us! I never knew that sourcils taught you such murderous driving!"

Matthew sighed and tried to keep his little Papa from collapsing. He reminded him of those princesses in distress in some children's movie. Only that he's about to puke.

" Papa, you were telling me to hurry. I was just following orders."

" I told you to hurry. Not try to ram us against everything we pass by. Mon coeur almost jumped out of my throat! Never do that again!"

"Alright..alright, I'm sorry." Matthew said, helping his Papa to steady himself. "Now..." he looked at the string of shops lined up from across the horizon, he can see some people inside starting to draw the blinds from the windows and putting out displays. "Where do we go first?"

" Tsk! I want to change your clothes first! We're going to that shop where I buy my shirts and you will look every inch a man after I'm through with you. Hurry! It's that shop! It's open already!" And Francis pointed at the third shop across the street, pulling Matthew impatiently from behind him.

"Now remember, show ze owner my card and always ask for ze new collection! Do not forget!" Francis's eyes were round and shiny and his voice can hardly contain his excitement. He is like a child eager to enter a brand new theme park.

"Look for the owner. New collection. Got it." Matthew nodded, "C-can I choose my clothes?"

"Nooon~"

* * *

><p>The first shop they visited was an exclusive boutique by one of Francis' favorite designers and the first thing that Matthew noticed was the room's spacious interior: It's large and almost completely bare, save for a selected row of clothes, fine opulent furniture and ornate mannequin displays. Matthew didn't realize he was mumbling out loud how impractical everything looked until his Papa jabbed him lightly on his stomach.<p>

" Stop acting like Angleterre!" He whispered, pointing out to two salesladies who possibly overheard him. One of them snottily raised an eyebrow, gave Matthew a quick going over from head to toe, whispering something to her companion in French before taking a suit from the rack and approaching them.

"She called you another dumb tasteless American." Francis muttered, biting his lip. Matthew looked almost apologetic when he saw how sad his Papa looked, knowing how much it hurts him as well that he is always being mistaken as his older brother. But he had to admit, he did stuck out like a sore thumb in his current surroundings: wearing a pair of loose cargo shorts, a bright red shirt and socks in strapped sandals. He was a far cry from the sophisticated clientele that the boutique catered.

"Bonjour~!" the saleslady flashed them a bright smile and Francis rolled his eyes. "Ez there anything in particular you are looking for, monsieur?"

Before Matthew could utter an apology, Francis already spoke.

"We would like a suit, please!" He replied brightly, much to Matthew's surprise. Francis have neutralized his accent and his expression suddenly changed, smiling sweetly at the young lady in front of them. He never knew his Papa can mimic an English accent. "My Papa and I just came from a looong 7-hour flight from London and he has to meet up with his business associates in a few hours, it's going to be some fashionable event and he needs to suit up real quick!"

"Oh, well zat would explain _this_ I suppose." The woman replied, charmed with Francis while eyeing Matthew critically with silent amusement. "Well, petite. I think we will let your Papa decide what he would want to wear, no?"

Matthew nodded and the lady presented the suit tucked in her arm, "How about zis? This just came recently, it's part of our current spring collection!"

"Do they have that comes in uh..." Matthew tried to find words, "Dark gray?"

"What shade in particular, Monsieur?" the lady asked, signaling the other sales lady standing near the racks. "Charcoal? Dark Slate? Or should I suggest, Gunmetal gray? It's a classic favorite among our patrons."

"Uh.."

Poor Matthew look like he would faint at the choices being laid out in front of him.

"Well?"

Matthew's head reeled at the onslaught of options. He thought gray meant gray. He wasn't expecting this at all.

" How about red?" Francis piped in.

"You mean burgundy?" The saleslady frowned lightly, as if questioning his taste. Francis's brow twitched.

Matthew tried to help, "It's not really a formal suit it's..."

"Something more casual then?"

"Uhmm..."

He is at a loss now. And the saleslady is growing a bit impatient.

" Something like that wine, papa! You know..." Francis pulled Matthew's arm with a knowing look in his eyes. " The one you ALWAYS had when you went to PARTIES. I LIKE that color."

"No!" his eyes widened, as if silently begging for Francis to stop. "That color is too loud, _son_. These are conservative people!"

"Monsieur, if you would want our recent collection also has-"

"Shush!" Francis suddenly cuts the saleslady off, lifting his right hand, commanding her to stop. "Stop giving us that selection. Let us choose!"

"I beg your pardon~?" she gasped, maintaining a strained smile on her face. " Petit garçon, this have just arrived and it comes in an early bird discount of $ 5,000.00!"

Matthew felt a part of him just died. He can get himself something more useful and practical with that kind of money. Like a one-way ticket out of this mess.

"You are not fooling us!" He pouted, placing both hands on his hips, "How dare you present to my Papa last year's spring collection, we all know zat's already 50% off!"

The saleslady stepped back, trying to form words out of her mouth.

"I want to talk to ze owner of this establishment! This ez unacceptable! Mon dieu!" He lifted his hands in dismay, as the salesladies gawked at him. "And my Papa ez not a dumb American! He ez a French-Canadian! Don't you dare...!"

Did Francis even realized his act is slipping?

"His Maman is French." Matthew said, quickly covering Francis' mouth before he said anything more. "S-she was a very... er... fashion-sensitive lady. She passed her... skills on to him, as you can see."

"O-Oui." The saleslady nodded, "So it seems."

"I have ze privilege card for this establishment!" Francis struggled, pulling Matthew's hand off his mouth and materializing a gold card, handing it out to the saleslady. "Show this to the owner! Now!"

She reluctantly took the card and quickly turned to her heels, clothing in hand, furiously calling her equally surprised companion to call for their supervisor immediately.

" Papa, what are you doing! You'll get us in trouble!" Matthew whispered frantically.

"Non, with what she did, she will be the one _in_ trouble!" Francis smiled impishly, "Just you wait, my dear. When ze owner arrive, we will be treated like Kings!"

" Papa..." Matthew sighed helplessly. " Don't make this hard for them already! Let's just buy the clothes and get going!"

They heard the door open, and a smartly dressed man in his late 30's with a pencil thin moustache and slicked back black hair came in. He fixed his collar and saw Matthew, and just like those before him, gave him a quick going over with an unimpressed expression written all over his face.

"Ah, Louis, I'm glad ez you!" Francis cried, but the man just gave him a baffled expression. "Your staff ez giving me a hard time!"

"Pardon moi?" he was handed the gold card and takes a look at it. "But who are you?"

"It's moi!"He tried jumping up, "Ez complicated but it's Moi!"

It took a good few minutes for the information to sink in as Louis suspiciously glanced from the card and to the blue-eyed blond child standing in front of him.

" When you were in London, August, 1997 you were ..." And Francis tiptoed to whisper things into the supervisor's ear. His eyes widened and he looked at Francis, who was smiling smugly, from head to foot and he brought his hand to his mouth. Matthew was beyond curious as to what his Papa said to make the man react like so.

"Mon dieu!" He gasped, "Ez it you, Monsieur-? But why..."

"Shush!" He tugged his hand, leading him away from Matthew. " I'll explain everything. Let's go over there so no one will hear us!"

Matthew watched as Francis and Louis talked and whispered. There was a moment when both looked at him and he felt like they were talking about him and he felt very, very saw Francis nod and glance at him one more time and gave him a sunny smile.

Louis spoke after what seemed an eternity.

"Ingrid! Stella!" he strode towards his staff, clapping both hands. "I will have a vord with both of you later-especially you, Ingrid." he pointed out, rubbing his palms as his worried personnel approached him. "First, give Monsieur Williams here everything he needs!" He pointed at the surprised Matthew. "Take out the latest collection that arrived this morning! Stop gawking! Hurry! Hurry! Don't keep him waiting!"

And the ladies quickly ran to the supplies closet to get the clothes they have yet to display. Amidst the rush, Matthew went to the impatient supervisor who warmly greeted him.

" Oui, monsieur? Anymore requests?"

Matthew hesitated. " Uhm... If you don't mind sir. I... I'd like to ask you not to give uh... Madame Ingrid and uh... Stella..." Then he drew himself up. " It's not their fault really. So I'd appreciate it if we just let the incident pass."

Louis was slightly surprised. " But Monsieur, your father..."

" Yes I know. Papa was slightly insulted. But it's fine. Please. Just this once." And he looked at the busy salesladies a bit sadly that Louis understood what he meant.

" You are a kind man, Monsieur." He gave the blonde a pat on the shoulder. Matthew smiled shyly.

Unknown to him, Francis watched quietly. His lips forming a fond little smile.

" Mon petit bébé.."

"Everything is now ready, Monsieur." One of the salesladies approached Louis quietly and the supervisor turned around.

"Monsieur Williams, ready when you are!"

Francis then leapt down from his cushioned seat, this will be his favorite part.

* * *

><p>Remember those romantic comedy movies, when the protagonist will have the time of hisher life getting a makeover, trying different outfits and new clothes?

Well, it only works in movies.

Matthew felt uncomfortable having to try new threads with a fitting style that he is not used to wearing, with a very eager Louis there to assist him and his Papa sitting eagerly by the couch watching him as he strolled outside for the first time from the fitting room in front of three large life size mirrors.

"You have ze most beautiful eyes!" Louis exclaimed, and Matthew noticed he is wearing one of those large framed glasses. "Just like ze late great Elizabeth Taylor . Anything she wore complimented her beauty! And you monsieur, you might be a diamond in the rough, but with a little polish you can be as-magnifique!"

"Uhum, Louis...?"

"Oui, Monsieur?"

"You can like..stop squeezing my arms now."

"Ah, my apologies!" And Louis stepped back from behind him. Matthew frowned, feeling like his own private space was invaded, with the man pressed against him from behind, his face over his shoulder and his hands running up and down his arms. If he went any further, he could have squeezed his buttocks.

"My dear, Louis is just helping you!" Francis chuckled, " That's just how he is. He always loves a challenge!"

"I know it's just..." he mumbled. Can he help me without_ touching _me? he grumbled internally.

"Now turn around~!"

Matthew slowly turned around and blushed a little when he saw the sparkle of amusement in his Papa's eyes. He sat there in the small cushioned couch, pretty as you please, with his legs crossed, taking a delicate sip from his glass of juice. "Now turn again but remove your coat this time!"

"Papa, you just want to see my butt."

He watched in dismay as his Papa and Louis laughed. "He is a blunt one, isn't he?"

"Unfortunately, he takes that from Angleterre." Francis commented, "Now don't be stubborn, fils, just remove it and turn around so I can see how everything fits. S'il vous plait~?"

He sighed, "Alright." and reluctantly removed the coat, slung it over his shoulder and slowly turned around, and rolled his eyes when he saw how his Papa's eyes widen silently with delight.

"Zat eez more like it." He almost purred, "The lilac shade of your shirt underneath the knitted deep mauve one compliments your skin tone."

"It's pink."

"Lilac eez not the same as pink! Mon Dieu! I swear Angleterre just taught you basic colors and nothing more!"

"If anything Monsieur, you pulled off the look quite nicely~!" Louis followed, as Francis puffed his face and slumped back in the thick couch, sinking in it. "Not all men can pull of ze look and besides-" he stands up, approaching Matthew. The blond took a couple of steps back. "If you are worried about the color being too feminine, it's balanced pretty well by the light khaki shade of your coat and your slacks."

"Precisely!" Francis added, "I couldn't have said it any better! Eez this the latest collection from last month's Paris fashion week?"

"Why yes it is. The collection is fresh from ze runway!" and Louis approached him from behind, making Matthew jump a little. "You see Monsieur Williams, your Papa told me your style has always been refined casual. Now with your new 'physique' you will need more tailored pieces and zis collection is defined as 'growing up'!"

"That's a strange name for...a collection." Is all Matthew can mutter, "I think it's comfortable, it doesn't have to look special, really. I mean..."

Louis interrupted him with a mirthful laughter that sent chills to the blond's spine. It's like his Papa's laughter.

"Oh non~! Our 'Growing Up' selection you see, ez like saying, it's about time to dress up! Scrub up, every day is an occasion to look your best!" Matthew can see the man's passion about the clothing and was careful to avoid him a little as he moved around him, making emphasis on his words with his hands.

"Ez still a casual look, just like you wanted-but somehow more polished and cleaner!" He continued, until they're already facing each other. "When did you last see young men in proper coats, a well-ironed shirt and neat trousers?"

"Last night, when I was at a party with Papa." he answered flatly, like it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"Your boy is so funny, Monsieur!" He chuckled, before giving Matthew a quick slap on the rump.

Matthew bit his lip. Papa's countrymen are so much like him that it's almost painful.

"Mathieu, this is different from those pathetic excuse for fashion that you call clothes which most of you young ones wear during events!" Francis pointed out, "They're just flashy but without ze taste and the art." He stretch out his arms, making no effort to stand up as he gestured to Matthew's form. "This kind of look conveys an aura of great elan and sophistication!"

"What do you think, Monsieur Bonnefoy?" Louis asked, folding his arms and rubbing his chin thoughtfully, seeking Francis's approval as he looked at Matthew from head to toe.

"Hmm, mmm. It's something I would definitely wear on a normal day."

"This is what you wear on a normal day?" Matthew gasped, pulling the slim long collar of his coat in front of him.

"Why yes, mon petit~! Didn't you notice that I always wear suits in ze conference meetings?"

"Yeah, mostly white ones though..."

Francis' smile grew wider.

"NO, I'm not going to wear white! I-I'm fine with this selection!" Matthew argued, but Francis was not listening as he reached out from his couch to get himself another serving of fruit juice from a pitcher at the nearby table. Matthew didn't notice that they serve snacks in high-end boutiques.

"As I was saying earlier," he resumed, plopping comfortably. "I get to choose your clothes! Your physique and looks are so close to mine zat anything I wear, you can wear!"

"If not better~"

"Louis!" Francis snapped his fingers.

" Oui?"

" Since we are in a hurry, we'll just be getting this for the time being, and maybe that red one you showed me a while ago. I might come back again soon if our situations remain the same."

" Ah, Papa!" Matthew almost whined.

" Save it, Mathieu. We still have to buy MY clothes. And that would take a longer time."

" Oui Monsieur." Louis agreed and clapped his hands at the salesladies which sent them running for the register and the stocks. Francis lazily handed Louis his card, which the latter graciously received. Matthew carefully padded back to the dressing room. But Francis saw him.

" Where are you going, mon coeur?"

Matthew froze. " I... uhm... I was going to change back to my clothes so these wouldn't get dirty and..."

Francis rolled his eyes. " Mon cher, you are wearing those NOW. There is no way I'm allowing you back into those monstrosities. It will be such a pity to hide such a wonderful frame behind such clothes. Now be a good boy and wear that and be fabulous. Make papa proud, s'il vous plait? With much amour?"

Matthew looked at his father and sighed in total surrender. Francis has driven him up a wall. The little Frenchman looked at him with such profound love and pride that he just COULDN'T bring himself to say no.

Curse this kind and gentle nature.

" Y-yes, papa..."

He propped himself up on the mirror. When he looked up, he saw his father staring back at him with confused purple eyes. Oh what will Arthur say?

"Monsieur, I placed a phone call on ze other shops across the street." Louis placed the receiver down. "So the both of you won't have to suffer the inconvenience that happened earlier."

"Ah, merci beaucoup~!" And tugging Matthew behind him, he waved at Louis, "I will be back later!"

Francis pushed the doors of the boutique wide open and was greeted with the most wonderful sight: All the shops across the street have, one by one opened their stores for the day, ready to receive Francis Bonnefoy.

"They're waiting for us!" He squeezed Matthew's hand, giddy with excitement. "Shall we start with that one..." He looked up and smiled naughtily. "_Papa_?"

* * *

><p>As they entered the shops one by one, Matthew and Francis kept up with their charade of being Father and Son in front of store personnel: He is a French-Canadian divorcee living in London and Francis spent most of his summer with his 'Maman' in Paris, she is an editor-in-chief of a fashion magazine, which would explain his vast knowledge of fashion, his keen eye on clothes and his shifting accent.<p>

The owners of the boutiques who were informed much earlier knew immediately who they were, and wasted no time preparing their best collections, all freshly released from last month's Paris's Fashion Week.

"I didn't know you can speak with an English accent!" Matthew whispered once, as Francis eagerly tried a pair of deep navy blue shorts. "Does dad even know about it?"

"Oh, bloody yes~!" He giggled, mocking Arthur's tongue. "The best way to know ze enemy is to act and think like the enemy and as much as it hurts me to speak that horrible accent, it always works to my advantage!"

"Yeah, so you can annoy him endlessly."

Francis laughed, "Ah, true...true"

Then they went to look for shoes. Matthew was already carrying almost a dozen packages by then. He hoped against hope that Francis would just buy at least three pairs. But knowing him, that would never be enough. Especially now that he has reverted to that age when children can wear any type of shoe that came in all shades of numerous colors.

" Mat... Papa! Please get those blue ones on the third top shelf. They're a bit... to high for me."

" Which type of blue are we talking about exactly, mon fils?" Matthew shuddered a bit when he said the last two words.

" The prussian blue one next to the light cyan one, Papa. No, not that one. That's navy blue. The one next to... Non, zat one, papa. Over zer, see? Ze one with ze blue rose. There, that one. Ah, but wait, that one looks better zan zis. Ah mon cher papa, that one! C'est beau!"

Matthew groped and picked every shoe that Francis mentioned. And he was so confused by all the types of blue that he made a mental note to memorize all the different types of colors when he gets home so he wouldn't have to deal with this any longer.

" Merci, mon cher papa." And Francis kissed Matthew's cheek when the latter bent to strap one of the shoes to his foot. Few feet from him, he can hear some of the female personnel sigh.

"They think you are so sweet." Francis whispered to Matthew, "It's not everyday they zee a father helping his son shop for clothes!"

Matthew merely nodded curtly as he felt the blush burn in his cheeks. His Papa just had to choose a shoe with such thin laces on them.

"My Papa has one of the biggest in zee world!" Francis exclaimed, waving his hands. "-if you all know what I_ mean_, mademoiselles~"

Matthew gave the lace a tight pull, "Aiee! Papaa, that hurts!"

"I'm sorry, cher fils." Matthew looked up, his brow twitching. Even in his child-like form, his Papa still finds it funny to crack lewd jokes. "But what is it that you were saying to the nice ladies, hm?"

"I'm not finished!" he pouted, "I'm telling them you got the biggest heart in zee world!"

He rolled his eyes as the women giggled and were instantly charmed by Francis 'sweet and innocent' demeanor.

* * *

><p>About a good 3 hours and a dozen shopping boxes and bags later, Matthew was about to collapse from exhaustion. And yet, Francis is skipping happily and ever as bright as day, resembling a child model right out of a fashion magazine spread in his shiny deep blue loafers, high-high argyle socks, dark colored pair of shorts that matches with his coat and a tiny beret cap. The owners of the stores feel a light dash of dread and excitement at the sight of him, having been informed of what happened and knowing who he is. And there are those who don't know, mostly young women assistants or the local clientele dropping by, finding him quite an irresistible darling: a flaxen blond, blue-eyed charmer with an extensive knowledge on haute couture and who also happened to completely adore his rather shy and quiet father.<p>

Matthew has gotten so used to being ignored that he found it hard to be himself with all the people watching and observing them.

"Dad told us not to draw too much attention!" Matthew pointed out, as they headed to eat at a classy cafe downtown, watching helplessly as Francis had another serving of a rather large slice of cake. As much as he wanted to have one, his little Papa happened to also know the chef of the establishment and strictly told him that Matthew can only have a small serving of sweets and a sandwich. There is a fancy name for the sandwich, but with all the information overload he received earlier, it escaped him. All he knew is that there are so many leafy greens in it.

" The healthier the better, mon coeur." Francis pointed out with his fork as Matthew glumly took a bite. "When you got zat type of body, you need to maintain it with good food. Not too much sweets."

"Not too much sweets, but lots of wine."

"As I said earlier, ez healthy. Rouge vin ez good to the heart!" he reminded him, noticing the dour expression on Matthew's face. "If you have at least two slices of this-" he pointed at what seemed to be a two-layered cake slice, "You will have unwanted expansions in your territory in a week and we won't want that won't we?"

"You mean I'll get fat."

" Such a bright boy!" And he forked a large piece. "But with this young body? I can burn ze calories easily and eat lots of zis without the feeling the guilt!" and Francis took the large piece in his mouth, chewing it slowly and rolling his eyes towards the heavens, eliciting a low moan that is almost orgasmic in nature. "O-oh mon dieu, it's been ages since I had this many! I...I can almost hear the angels sing! A-aahhh...!"

Matthew facepalmed, the cafe's patrons curiously turn towards their direction, as Francis's moans becomes increasingly louder each time he consumed a bite.

" Oh my! Oh my!" Francis gobbled up the cake in wolfish bites.

"Would you like another slice again, Monsieur?"

Matthew almost jumped, he even didn't notice that the chef is already standing behind him.

"Oh, oh! I would like to try something different this time!" Francis licked his lips, pausing wistfully "I would like to have some...Tartelettes de Framboises au Mascarpone~!"

"Raspberry Tartlets?" Matthew looked up and faced the chef. "I'd like to have some as well..."

"Oh, no..no Monsieur!" The man chuckled, "Your Papa strictly told me zat you can only have ze White Crème Brûlée. Here have some more of our finest wine!"

And Matthew sighed, resigning to his seat as the Chef filled his glass for the third time.

His Papa is clearly enjoying this, so much so that he's already making a mess of himself, with smeared chocolate icings on the sides of his mouths and cheeks. Matthew got his napkin, reached out to his Papa, tipped his chin lightly and dabbed his mouth before he can reach for his tall glass of water.

"Oh, merci~!" and Francis moved his face closer, letting Matthew clean his face. The taller blond can almost hear the sighs coming from the patrons behind them.

"After this, we go home...right?" His tone is almost pleading when a delicious plate of raspberry tartlets is served in front of Francis. It smelled so delicious. Matthew nearly fainted at the wonderful smell wafting in his direction when suddenly Francis dove his fork on the tartlet and gobbled a piece.

" Bien sur, mon cher. We must not keep your FATHER waiting." Francis smiled naughtily as he munched on the sweet treat.

And Matthew suddenly dreaded going home.


	4. Chapter 3: For your own good

**The Switch**

**{ Chapter 03 – For Your Own Good}**

**A/N: **Well, this update took slightly longer than usual. I was busy making LED Boards at work that Kat and I wasn't able to write it as fast as we should (I write most of the chapters at work. Shh.) Also I'm a bit clueless on where this will go at the moment, although the fourth chapter is on its way. We will get to have a glimpse of Arthur's (still OC) brothers, James (Scotland, for this chapter) and the still unnamed Wales. Can anyone give me name suggestions?

Also, beware of slight Alfred OOC'ness haha.

EDIT: ffnet's coding kind of ruin my story line breaks ;; Also I also realized the epilogue is kind of strange. Uh, Kat re-writes Francis's bits that I type (she inserts the french phrases) so uh yeah, but I hope you guys enjoy this ahaha ||orz

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile,<em>

"What do you mean there are no more reserved tables?" Arthur is starting to see red, standing in front of the reception of an exclusive restaurant, talking to the maitre'd. "I _always_ have a booked reservation here-" he firmly tapped the table with his finger, "-and you tell me, I don't have a table?"

"Monsieur, can you move 'ere by the side? you are keeping ze line~"

"Do you bloody know who I _am_?"

"Why yes, we are so very aware of ze great Arthur Kirkland." The maitre'd cocked an eloquent eyebrow as he rubbed the tip of his moustache, before tilting to his side and noticing the tall bespectacled blond shifting uncomfortably behind the infuriated Englishman. "And ez favored boy, Alfred F. Jones!"

"Daddd..." Alfred said in a low voice, trying to say the words while faking an uneasy smile. "You are causing a scene. _Again_. We can eat somewhere else!"

"You maybe French, but your supervisor and chef of this establishment is _**English**_! I demand a word with him!"

Alfred runs a palm down his face.

"But he ez not here and I'm now in charge of handling his affairs." The maitre'd replied calmly, ignoring him and opening a ledger much to Arthur's chagrin. It's like he didn't hear a single word he said. "When I say there ez no more reserved seats, there is none~!"

"You...!"

And Alfred jumped to cover Arthur's mouth before he even said anything that will cause endless trouble. " We'll just come back next time. Thanks man."

As Alfred dragged the struggling Englishman away, the maitre'd continued to talk to himself, while going through a list.. "Hah...he expected to be treated with respect...after what he have done to ze great country and his fils..."

Arthur stopped struggling. "Tke m bck!" he said, his voice muffled by Alfred's hand. He pulled it down. "I'm going to ask him something!"

"Enough already! I just want to eat noww!" Alfred whined, "Come on!"

"I will be civil, I promise." Arthur said, shaking his arm off Alfred's grip. He then turned around and swiftly approached the maitre'd.

"Monsieur, I don't have all day-"

"I heard you said something." The blond glowered, "You said I deserve this after what I have _done_ to your country and his _son_. What did you mean by that?"

The maitre'd eyed him critically, from head to toe. "I'm surprised you're unaware of it monsieur, every French in ze district have heard about the Nation being regressed and his fils becoming all too mature for his age. Shame on you and your temper!"

Arthur let out a sigh of relief. So it wasn't that _other_ thing that had to do with the past.

BUT WAIT.

" What did you bloody SAY!"

"Dad?" Alfred squeaked, watching Arthur redden anew.

"T-that's not supposed to go out in public! I-I told him...I...I!" he sputtered, "I told that frog to keep it low until I find a remedy!"

"Aha, so you have infected ze nation with something!"

Alfred noticed several patrons (mostly French) in the restaurant stop what they're doing to turn towards Arthur's direction.

This time, Alfred didn't wait anymore. He is going to hoist Arthur over his shoulders again if he had to.

* * *

><p>The car stopped and the cashier handed the meals through a window.<p>

" Thanks!" Alfred yelled as he drove off.

Arthur grumbled as he opened the box and saw the contents as food he would never even think of putting near his mouth.

" Bloody fastfood... So much oil... ugh..."

Alfred wasn't even fazed as he took a sip from his drink. " Deal with it, dad. All you did was fight and bicker with every restaurant manager we can find. My stomach can't handle the suspense already."

" Git. I didn't know that blasted frog went through every shop in town and showed off his newfound youth and made me look like a bloody bully!" Arthur sputtered while trying his best not to think that he just bit a hamburger.

" Youth?" Alfred glanced at him. " I thought he was older than you."

" Were you even listening when me and my... brother were talking? Or were you too busy eating his food?"

" I thought I heard something about spells and idiot and bastard and something about skirts and then something went flying." Alfred shrugged. " So what was that all about? You and him saw a movie you didn't like?"

Arthur slapped his forehead. " I knew it. Never you mind. Just get us home. Then you'll see for yourself."

" See what?"

" The problem, you muppet. All this time and you didn't even catch a single bloody detail. Even if I told you now, you wouldn't understand. Just hurry up and get us home so I can give that manky frog a piece of my mind!"

" Well geez I beg yer pardon, kindly lil gentleman." Alfred did his highly flavored imitation of Arthur's accent that sent the brit flying into a rage as they drove home.

Arthur probably still had a hangover from last evening when all of a sudden he let out a surprised yelp when Alfred was about to cross the intersection, arguing that he meant to go straight to Matthew's place.

"But, you just said-!"

"I know what I said!" Arthur answered, "I just got confused, now turn to the right! We're going straight to Matthew's! Francis is with him!"

"Oh that reminds me!" Alfred chugged down the remaining contents of his cup. "Matt has your shoe. He said he found it on top of a flagpole! Man! I would like to know what happened that night!"

"I know! I know! That bloody shoe!" He bristled, "I would also like to know what happened myself! If only I can remember what transpired that evening!"

Arthur continued to talk furiously, but this time Alfred pretended not to hear him. He slowly turned up the volume of the car radio as they headed towards Matthew's place.

* * *

><p>"What do you think you're doing?"<p>

"Papa, I'm changing to my home clothes?" Matthew turned, gently folding his coat as he placed it inside his cabinet. His glasses almost slipped when he saw what Francis is wearing: He is wearing that crisp white cotton collared shirt from earlier-and it's the _only_ thing he is wearing right now.

"I like it breezy underneath, 'cherie." He dismissed his gaping expression. "Don't look at me like that now, I'm wearing undergarments see!" He lifted his shirt briefly, making Matthew gag a little.

"Papa, you might be a child now-but please, do NOT do that again!" he sputtered, "A-and why did you come here? Is there anything you want?"

"Oui, your clothes..." he started, "Don't just fold them. They're made of high-quality material and must be treated with utmost care! You must put them in a hanger and cover them with ze plastic that came with ze purchase."

"Can I wear my regular clothes now that I'm at home?"

"Of course! As long as it fits you!"

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"You are NOT going wearing that. Dad might come over!"

"But ez comfortable~!" he twirled around, "Surely your Father won't mind-"

"Oh no, no...you are going to annoy him again! You know how he is once you go streaking around him!"

"I am not streaking!" he pouted like a stubborn child, placing both hands on his hips, with Matthew towering in front of him. "Do you zee me streaking? Do you want me to? Because I wouldn't mind-"

Matthew felt something inside of him just snapped and without a single word, he grabbed his Papa's tiny wrist and yanked him forward.

"Hey!" he let out a surprised yelp, as Matthew dragged him towards the cabinet, his grip tightening as Francis struggled. "You are hurting my arm, Mathieu!"

He responded by wordlessly pushing Francis roughly unto the bed.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Clothes." Matthew said tersely, in a cold and indifferent tone that made Francis shiver. The tall blond turned towards his cabinet and grabbed a dark green canvas bag with a white beaver logo on it. "I got these on sale a few weeks ago for one of my brothers. But I guess you can wear them for the time being." He tossed a couple of cargo shorts and shirts towards Francis's direction. He smiled, but it's a disturbing one. "They will fit you just perfectly, Papa. Try it."

That smile didn't leave Matthew's face immediately and Francis found himself nodding quietly and quickly stripping off his shirt and slipping into his 'tacky clothes'. He never felt so violated in his life, having to wear mass manufactured, shapeless clothes...

Now he understood Arthur's pain every time Alfred fed him fast food.

* * *

><p>*dingding dingdingding*<p>

Alfred rolled his eyes as Arthur pressed the doorbell in quick succession.

"Whoahhh, take it easy!" he tried to loosen him up, "There's no fire!"

When all of a sudden came a loud succession of crashing sounds which is then later followed by someone groaning and whimpering.

"Oh dear lord! Matthew!" Arthur gasped, "Matthew-! Alfred...will you-"

"I got it!"

Alfred gave the door a swift kick, sending it crashing down the floor. They immediately hurried inside to the source of the chaos, in Matthew's room.

The bespectacled blond was the first to go inside, finding the grown Matthew holding a struggling small blond figure in a red shirt and cargo shorts.

"Francis?" He asked out loud, "When did you start wearing purple lenses?"

Matthew looked up, surprised at the unexpected company.

"N-no! I'm-"

Alfred quickly received a head slap from behind, "That's your brother, you idiot!"

* * *

><p>Alfred is still reeling from shock after what he learned and what he is seeing right now in front of him as Arthur sighed and explained what happened last evening. If anything, the Englishman is grateful that at least for once, Alfred paid attention to what he is saying. He was also relatively quiet all throughout the time he wearily talked to the duo.<p>

"Why can't you just go and drive by an outlet nearby?" he emphasized his frustration with both hands, as Matthew stared down at the floor looking guilty, sitting on his bed that seemed a little too big for his new body frame. "Didn't I tell you that we are NOT to attract any attention? Now look-" he pointed at Matthew's new threads, and the paper bags and boxes littered around the room. "You just have to go all the way out there, for _this_? He might be _your _son, but he isn't _you_!"

"Dad, I'm really sorry!" Matthew apologized, "I tried stopping him...I...I promise it won't happen again!"

"No, it's not your fault, Matthew. I know you tried your best. It's just your Father here who-" Arthur's brow twitched, watching Francis uncomfortably roll around the mattress behind Matthew. He kept doing it for the past several minutes. "Are you even listening to me, you frog?"

"Uh, don't mind Papa. He is just distressed..." the blond shifted uneasily, "I made him wear some of the clothes I bought that are meant for Li*."

"Your Father would never in his life..." Arthur paused, looking over Matthew's shoulder. "Y-You made him what?" He did not notice it earlier, but Francis was indeed wearing something casual, or in his words 'machine mass-produced rags' and would rather be dead than be caught wearing one. But there he was, near reduced to tears and restless, like a child helpless in a situation beyond his control.

"I..." Matthew scratched his head sheepishly, "I don't know, I just can't have Papa running around the house half naked."

Arthur placed his hand over his son's shoulder. "Matthew."

"Yes?"

"Whatever you did to convince him," He glanced briefly at Francis, then back to the grown Matthew. "You must do it _often_. Especially now you're physically more able-"

Arthur was instantly beaned by a pillow on the face, but saying those words are worth it.

"Don't give him any ideas!" Francis jumped off the bed, confronting Arthur. "You weren't here! He was scary! Ez like 1812 all over again! You probably did something to him when he was little, didn't you?"

"Papa..."

"I beg your pardon. I did something?" Arthur argued, "Anybody will be driven mad having to deal with your absurd demands! It's no surprise that he snapped at you!"

" Was I that demanding, mon fils?" Francis turned to Matthew, giving him a sad puppy-eyed look. Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed Francis away by the face, before he confuses the soft-spoken boy even more.

"Yes, Papa you are!" he lifted his hands in the air. Francis's eyes widened. "I'm already tired from having to drive far away from here so we can shop where you WANTED, for making me wear all those expensive impractical clothes that you WANTED and all that I ask of you is listen to me and wear some CLOTHES."

"I am wearing clothes~!"

" Only now, papa." Matthew sighed in exasperation. " After I almost had to tie you up just so you'd put them on. Oh papa, I'm just after your welfare. You might catch a cold... you might get bitten by something down there... Anything can happen!"

And then Arthur and Matthew were stricken by the fact that Francis had not said a single word all this time. And when they looked at him, he have crawled back and was sniffing as he hugged a pillow in the farthest corner of the bed.

" Y-you... you hate me..."

" Ah! No, no! I'm just..." Matthew turned around to comfort him, crawling towards the bed. "You are my Papa, I could never hate you!"

"S-stop that, Frog! We... were just trying to keep you from doing anymore damage and... and! Honestly! Stop that sniffling! Take it like a... er... ah... Just take it easy."

Arthur wondered if it's all part of the regression.

"Papa," Matthew started softly, gently folding his hands over his Papa's, squeezing them tight. "Look, let's think about it this way, I can wear all these nice clothes you bought me if it makes you happy-"

"-and makes you look fabulous?" he mumbled.

"Y-yes, if it makes me look fabulous." Matthew stammered, "But you need to wear these clothes too! They're not as bad as you think they are! They're low maintenance, comfortable-" he pointed out, "Come on, don't they feel nice at least?"

Francis silently nodded.

"You can at least wear it here when you're just staying at home, if you are worried of being seen outside wearing them." the blond suggested, rubbing his hands comfortingly up and down his Papa's arms, "How about that? Do we have a deal?"

Francis nodded once more and reached out to Matthew, encircling his arms around his neck, holding him into a tight embrace.

Arthur looked on in disbelief, making hand gestures as words escaped him. He couldn't believe Matthew was able to tame Francis with reason.

"Oh Mathieu~!" he sighed against the lad's shirt, snuggling his face on the sweet smelling fabric. "Y-you are such a sweet and understanding boy!" He lifted his blue gaze from Matthew's shoulder, looking at Arthur. " Any father could be so lucky to have _you_ as a son!"

Arthur can feel his brow twitch. _Why that little..._

"T-thanks, Papa.." Matthew said softly as he gently stroked his Papa's back, like he is comforting a child. "So, are we okay now?"

"Ouii~"

As Matthew tried to stand up with much difficulty, Francis have latched possessively around his neck, refusing to let go.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Arthur reacted, "You may have a body of a child, but you are not one!"

"P-papa, you can let go now..."

"Noooon" He giggled, Francis is clearly enjoying this, as he starts to drag Matthew with his weight.

"P-papa, I can't breathe..." Matthew gasped, settling him down a nearby chair.

"Oh! Désolé!"

"This is just too weeeeird-" Alfred finally spoke, after what seemed like an eternity that almost everyone forgot he is there. "Matt-" he pointed a finger at Matthew, who looked up at him. Alfred felt a shiver run down his spine, his brother really resembles Francis. So this is how he would look like after a few more centuries? "Dude, you really need to shave."

"Uhum...I will... later."

"Do you feel like groping somebody?"

Arthur face palmed, "You git, he is still your brother. I doubt he will have lecherous tendencies in a few hundred years." and then he paused, "Well-"

"No, Dad," Matthew sighed and Alfred get crept out again, just hearing Matthew's deeper baritone voice made him seem much older than Arthur. "I don't have the urge to do...that."

"Are you suure? What if you see Antonio?"

"Alfred!"

"Yes, Alfred. I'm sure." Matthew answered, "I'm still me. Nothing is going to change that. I'm just older and uh-I resemble Papa and..." Alfred got quickly distracted; he was looking at Francis who is glumly trying to wear a pair of 'sneakers' that Matthew has laid out earlier. "Alfred, are you listening to me?"

"Oh man! oh man!"

"A-alfred?"

"Quoi?"

"So that's how you look like half-a-millennia younger!" His eyes lit up with amusement as he eyed Francis from head to toe.

He earned another head slap from Arthur. " Don't get carried away, you twit. He may have become cute... I mean smaller, but he's still the hedonistic prick that he is."

" But he wooks so cuuute." And Alfred felt the urge to pinch Francis's cheeks. He must have had a strange expression on his face, as the de-aged blond frowned and moved his chair further back. "How come he wasn't this cute when I first met him?"

"We were much older! Now will you stop that!"

"Whaat? I'm not doing anything!"

"Amerique," Francis jumped down from the chair, he stood just about as tall as little above Alfred's waist. He sighed, "Always so terribly honest! I wish Angleterre is more like you!"

Francis watched in amusement as Arthur reddened anew. "Do you know when he and I were younger, he would steal a kiss from my lips while I...mmfff!"

Matthew quickly clamped his Papa's mouth shut before Arthur can strangle on him. "Dad is right, Alfred. Papa is still papa. He is just-smaller."

Francis made an adorable pouty face that Alfred wasn't able to resist.

"Can I take him out for an ice cream at least?"

"NO."

* * *

><p>Arthur wasn't expecting Alfred to be 'enamored' by the de-aged Francis. If ages ago, he wasn't lured by the frog's mouthwatering cuisine as a baby; now he's inexplicably drawn to him because of his 'cute' looks. Alfred just won't stop saying how adorable he is: a sweet faced cherub with tickled pink cheeks and round crystal-blue eyes, his long blond hair makes it hard to discern his gender until he starts talking.<p>

_Cute_. That's how the bespectacled blond keeps on describing him as he sat beside him when they start to have dinner by the living room (Matthew ordered some Chinese take out, much to Francis's despair). Alfred is starting to sound like that tomato bastard, Antonio. However Arthur can't fault the lad, he too have fallen for the frog's charm way back before Alfred even existed...

" GAH!" Everyone looked at Arthur in surprise as he slapped himself. After a brief silence, he faced them with a sober expression even as his cheeks reddened a little which left them wondering what happened to him exactly.

" Alright, I think I may have figured out how to fix this mess. But it will take me a while before the final process. Matthew, I assure you, I can return you back to normal so don't fret. And you frog, for the nth time, all we're asking is that you keep low until the situation blows over. Then when everything is fixed, you can go back to your frolicking and you will be off my hands."

Then Francis looked at him doubtfully. " Will you really be able to return us to normal? As soon as possible?" His voice held something more than doubt, Arthur thought. It almost held... disappointment?

" I expect you to have a little more confidence in me on this subject, Francis." He masked the thought with his sarcasm, but his eyes betrayed a little of his suspicion. They looked almost kind. " I cast the spell. I alone can undo it." It was almost a promise hidden behind haughtiness.

Almost. Almost.

But he couldn't shake off the thought that Francis seemed to be asking for something which he isn't willing to voice out. His eyes asked for too much.

And neither of them knew how to say things in their plainest form.

What else is there to do but...

" That's it for tonight. I will still check on you two every now and then. I'll be keeping to myself until I get the counter spell ready." He tried to look away from Francis and kept his eye on Matthew. " Alfred will come over in my place and well... help you in whichever way possible."

" It's fine, dad. Thanks for your concern." Matthew smiled.

" Right." Arthur tapped Alfred's shoulder. " Let's get going."

" Wait dad."

Arthur was annoyed. " What is it now, you..."

Then suddenly Alfred grabbed Francis by the waist and lifted him into his arms and snuggled his face against the younger (as of now) blond. Arthur and Matthew were too surprised to react.

" I can't help it! He's so cute! Francis should look like this more often!" Alfred exclaimed, which sent the shocked-at-first Francis to giggling fits and hugged his elder son back.

" Mon Dieu, Alfred. I didn't realize you were this big. Ah now I feel really small." He chuckled.

Then Alfred looked at Arthur and said, " Dad, it's a wonder how you're not affected by how he looks at all. You must really be in-denial."

Arthur turned dangerously red from the collar up to to roots of his hair.

" That's it! We're leaving! Goodbye, Matthew. I shall see you soon." With that, Arthur grabbed his coat and left the room in a hurry and banged the door shut.

Alfred looked at his retreating back and flinched when the door was shut. He murmured cluelessly. " Dad is always angry. It's a wonder he hasn't popped a blood vessel yet. What's he so riled out about anyways?" He looked at Francis and ruffled his hair. " I'll be back tomorrow, Papa. Nighty-night! So cute!"

Francis kissed Alfred's forehead. " Bonne nuit, cher. Merci."

And Matthew noticed that when Alfred put Francis down to follow Arthur, his Papa was quietly looking at the door where Arthur left.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

"What is it, Britannia?"

He watched from behind the bushes like a predator lurking in anticipation of its prey. Except there is no prey and Arthur Kirkland is certainly no predator, taking advantage of his small and lanky frame by trying to blend with his surroundings.

The brightly lit faes following him is making it difficult for Arthur to hide and he silently murmured that they should try to at least stay below his elbows as he watched the festivities going on around the evening's bonfire: There were two separate camps and there are people, lots of them: men, women -and others like him, most of them gathered around the bonfire; singing, dancing and eating to their heart's content.

"I wish I can be with them..." he whispered, ducking his head as some of the figures stood up and walked around.

"What's stopping you?" the Faes asked him quietly.

"They will just laugh at me..."

"Why would they?"

"I..." he stammered, "I've always wanted to learn their dance and I can't."

The response suddenly sounded upbeat. "Would you want to dance with me then?"

"That's not funny! Didn't I tell you to keep it-" Arthur turned around, his eyes widening at what he saw. "Wahh!"

Standing before him is a tall, willowy blond in a pale blue tunic. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"Francis!"

"Why art thou hiding, mon cher~?" Francis asked, approaching him and extending one hand." The festivities are in full swing. Come now, take my hand and I shall share the victuals with thine."

Arthur panicked. " Er... ah...L-leave me be, you f-frog! T-there is no way nor reason for me to be joining you in any event!"

Francis smiled and suddenly dragged the struggling youth away from his hiding place. Arthur attempted to ask for quiet help from his unseen friends, but when he saw they were giggling at his predicament, he negated the idea.

" Let. Me. Go! Ah! I've already given my answer and it is NO!" Arthur tried to pry the slender hands from both his arms but the seemingly frail Francis possessed unusual strength not visible to his physique.

" Thine eyes were so hungry, mon cher. Deny it no further. The feast has already begun and we shall dance to our hearts' content this merry night."

" I said, for the hundredth time, that I... " Arthur's eyes widened." Oh dear no. Of course he'd be here. Let me go, you pansy! I have to go before..."

" Before what, you nippet?"

Arthur didn't have to look to know it was James who spoke and towered above him and shadowed away the light from the bonfire. " Always causing trouble for everyone, ya little bampot."

He could feel the intense, heated glare James sent in his direction. He knew he had to run away before his brother could lay hands on him again. " Leave me be, James! I am leaving so you and your pretty little flower could have your time together under the stars!" And he secretly bit his tongue.

" Why you insolent bairn..."

" L'Ecosse!"

Arthur successfully removed Francis' fingers and ran with all his might away from his brother. He didn't run too far though. Just far enough to be unseen in the darkness of the night, but near enough to see what's happening. He almost felt something sting his eyes and his heart when he stopped.

" James... you arse..."

When he looked back, he saw Francis being led away by his brother. But the frog kept looking back in his direction. He knew Francis couldn't see him. But he kept turning this way. He saw James take Francis' hand and lead him back to the crowd.

Arthur kept his head down. Maybe he shouldn't be staying here at all. After all, he wasn't welcome. He sighed and started walking away. Suddenly, something pulled on his cloak.

He looked down to see a little fairy with a sad face. " Britannia, do stay." He heard her whisper.

Arthur felt his eyes water a bit. " But dear, I'm not welcome... let's go elsewhere..."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile...<em>

James looked at the quiet blond beside him. " What's the matter?"

Francis didn't look up and kept staring at the bonfire. The shadows dancing on his face while the flames reflected in his blue eyes." I am leaving for tonight, James."

" Oh? Got tired pretty quickly?"

" Maybe so. Bonne nuit." Francis said quietly. Then he stood up and patted the redhead's shoulder and walked away.

James chuckled a little to himself as he laid down to stare up at the stars dreamily. " Ye always did have a big heart."

* * *

><p>Arthur found a place where he could sleep for the night. A big willow tree with branches that seemed to overshadow and protect him. Unlike the way his brother overshadowed him just a while ago...<p>

He shook his head. No, he should be sleeping now. He doesn't need such a terrible brother to make things unbearable even in his solitude. No. He doesn't even need that stupid frog's attention. No.

He doesn't need those eyes staring at him with pity.

He shifted and pulled his cloak over his body. And the sounds of the night lulled him to sleep.

Crack.

He heard a sound. Like footsteps on dry branches. No. He must be dreaming. There it is again. This time it sounded like the crackling of a fire. But he didn't make one. So, where is it coming from?

Annoyed and curious at the same time, he cracked one sleepy eye open to glance at what made that infuriating noise.

He saw the familiar shade of blue flapping in the darkness of the night.

Francis! His eyes widened in an instant and he quickly sat up, making the figure jump back and retreat behind a tree nearby.

"Don't you dare hide from me!" He shouted, as Francis pressed himself behind the tree's wide trunk. "I saw you!"

The blond slowly stepped out of the clearing. "Arthur..."

"I don't need your pity! Go away!" he cried, before Francis can breathe another word. His voice started to crack, "Just...go away and leave me..."

Alone.

"If it's L'Ecosse you are worried about," he cautiously approached Arthur, his hands pressed against his back. The smaller blond inched away as he moved closer, glaring at him with his furious green eyes so much like James. "He is not with moi. I left him back at the camp, he is probably asleep by now. You don't have to worry about a thing, mon petit~ Now come..."

"It does not matter!" His voice stung. Arthur quickly turned around, walking away before the frog catches up with him. "I'm not going back there any longer!"

"Would you still like to dance with me?"

Arthur's eyes widened. " W-what?"

Francis rolled his eyes. " I shall say it again. Would you like to dance with me?"

Arthur stared at Francis for sometime. Then suddenly he shook his head. "No!" He can almost feel his face redden, "What made _you_ think that I would like to dance with the likes of you? A pansy like you treating me like a maiden! What bullocks!"

Francis persisted and continued to press forward, "Foolish lapin, for I can see it in thine eyes. Your soul betrayed your words. You are so easy to read just like your brother."

Arthur grumbled something incomprehensible and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, speeding up his pace. Francis smiled. He knew he was right.

"Arthur, It's nothing to be ashamed of!" he called out, "James also happened to have two left feet!"

"I'm not like my brother!" Then he stopped. " Wait... What? James couldn't... dance?"

Francis laughed a little to himself. " Oui, petite lapin. He could not. He kept tripping all over his own feet. It was most disastrous."

Arthur, despite himself, moved closer. " I did not know that! All this time, I thought that almighty arse knew everything! What a complete idiot!" And he laughed so hard that Francis was quite surprised. He never saw Arthur laugh. So he watched Arthur laugh without uttering a word lest he ruin the moment.

" Mon Dieu, this is such a pleasant surprise. If I had known that it was the only way to make you smile, I would have done this a long time ago."

Finally, when the shorter boy was out of breath from so much laughter, he looked up at the taller one with misty eyes while clutching his stomach.

"Bloody frog, you gave me a stomach ache."

" Ah, it is my fault again. So like you to hide gratitude, lapin. So like..."

" I'm not like him." Arthur started to frown again.

Francis looked into his green eyes, his own blue eyes issuing a challenge. " Prove me wrong."

" Fine by me." And Arthur offered his hand. " I'll show you I'm better than he is."

Francis smiled ruefully as he took Arthur's rough hand. "Move closer." He instructed him, directing one hand firmly around his waist and clasping his hand with the other. The blond shifted uncomfortably at their sudden nearness, fingers intertwined with each other, bodies pressed close.

"Now, your waist must be pressed against mine." Francis said, only to chuckle softly as Arthur's face bumped into his chest, their height difference making it highly impossible to happen.

"D-darn it." came a muffled voice, and then, brief silence.

Arthur bit his lip, reluctantly shifting one foot to his left, and then the other to the right. They are starting to move, and soon enough they are swaying, slowly but surely he is leading Francis; as he tried his best to recall how the people danced earlier.

"Well, well~!" Francis finally spoke, "Not bad for a first timer, Arthur!"

He can feel the smaller blond's confidence grow as his hand wound tighter around his waist, pulling him into a quick twirl. "I'm a fast learner." he said, "I prefer to observe first before I act, unlike someone we both know."

"Oh, lapin!" he laughed lightly, "He is not as bad as you think he is! Big brothers tend to be like that, but he loves you all the same!"

"Heh, he is quite a failure at expressing it..." he grumbled, as they gradually slowed down. It's already getting pitch dark on where they are dancing and Arthur can't barely see Francis's form.

"-and you certainly don't act like one."

"Hm?"

"For someone who proclaimed himself a 'big brother', you certainly do not act like one."

"Mm, I have my way of showing it, I suppose."

"Francis?"

"Oui?"

"Why are you with James all the time?" he asked honestly, "I cannot see anything that he has that merits your attention or how he puts up with you, being _you_, I mean...uhh...you know what I mean...!"

"Arthur..."

Francis was about to continue, when the ground beneath them started to shake. Both looked up and were greeted by a thundering herd of horses and bright lamplights.

"F-francis?"

* * *

><p>"Francis!"<p>

Arthur woke up with a start, drenched in cold sweat and with a stunned Alfred next to him.

_So it's just a dream_. He muttered to himself, running his hand through his hair. They have just left Matthew's place and are now on their way home. It was just an hour's drive from there and he must be really exhausted: they're half-way through and he has already fallen asleep.

Alfred opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur was quick, "Don't even start! I had a nightmare! A nightmare, you hear! Watch the bloody road!"

"Uhh right. Whatever you say..." Alfred lifted a brow, finished his soda before turning his full attention to the road.

Was it really a dream?

* * *

><p>*Li = Hong Kong. I think I remember H.H. is considering Li as one of the names for Hong Kong, I dunno.<p> 


	5. Chapter 4: Don't Forget the First Rule

**Switch**

**{ Chapter 04 – Don't Forget the First Rule }**

**A/N:** Hi guys, sorry for the delay in update, this fic serves to be my 'stress reliever' while I'm taking a writing break on my doujinshi collab, an APH-FACE saga titled Notre Priere (Our Prayer) and I have to finish one arc before getting on this one and well, there is Holy Week, I have to take my three day break \o\

Also added another OC. I'm kind of iffy writing OC's (nations in particular too. Aaa.) So I won't be writing much on them here, only when it's uh necessary. Anyway I will write a note to explain everything. Meanwhile, enjoy!

* * *

><p>As soon as they arrived home, Arthur was out like a light, exhausted at the events that transpired that day. And what a day it had been, waking up from a vicious hangover with little memory or whatever happened last evening; only to discover later on, to his horror that he has placed a hex on Francis-a spell he <em>does not<em> even know and that the frog somehow passed it on to Matthew. The poor boy already had his share of problems, being always mistaken as Alfred and now he had to deal with the sudden maturity his body isn't prepared for, ageing by at least half a millennia.

Then of course, he also had to deal with a de-aged Francis, which proved to be more of a chore than meeting up with his short-tempered older brother who he haven't spoken to in ages. Arthur had to bring Alfred along as well, as he is the one who have witnessed first-hand what he did before waking to up to all this chaos.

Then Alfred just had to be charmed by the youthful appearance of that hedonistic prick.

"mm...fault...mrmm...wanker...zz..." Arthur mumbled, face planting on the sofa as soon as they arrived, falling sound asleep within minutes. The bespectacled blond observed him quietly for a while, mussing his father figure's hair lightly before standing up and taking his leave.

"'Night, dad." Alfred whispered quietly as he left the room.

* * *

><p><em>Back in Matthew's house, the following morning.<em>

"Wake up...Papa..."

Francis wearily rubbed his eyes. He had the strangest dream, that Arthur placed a spell on him, causing him to de-age by hundreds of years and his fils, Mathieu in turn had a sudden development spurt. He was impressed about the turn of events for his dear Mathieu- he is aware that the lad has inherited his gorgeous looks, but he didn't expect him to look _almost_ like him, if not, better.

As his eyes flew open, he brought his hands and arms to his face. They were slender, smaller and virtually hairless, just like that of a child.

No, it wasn't a dream. And the events that transpired yesterday start coming back to him, the adventure he and Mathieu had as they shopped for clothes together, watching Angleterre's face change into varying colors in quick succession and also regretting why he even bothered hexing Francis in the first place. A small smile curved on the blonde's lips.

"Why,_ bonjour_ gorgeous." He purred, seeing his concerned son's rugged face in front of him. Matthew happens to be half-naked, wearing only his pajamas bottom. Francis then looked down and then noticed he is wearing a dress shirt and he is in his son's bed. He didn't recall falling asleep in these clothes.

"Bonjour, Papa." Mathieu answered, noticing that Francis is suddenly perplexed, looking around and wondering why he is in different clothes. "You fell asleep on top of Kumajiro last evening after dinner, I can't leave you there or he will crush you."

"I fell asleep...on your bear?" He gasped, remembering how Kumajiro grew in fearsome size. "Why would I do zat? I don't even recall going near that animal! Around what time did I fell asleep?"

"Before seven at least." Matthieu chuckled softly, "Right after Dad and Alfred left, you said you'll watch tv, but you can't keep your head up and you told me you're going to the bathroom to wash your face-but you got so sleepy, that you ended up falling asleep on my bear."

Francis's eyes widened, he didn't even remember there is a napping polar bear near the living room. He covered his face in embarrassment, just imagining himself passed out on the creature. "Mon dieuuu. I got knocked out that early?" he cried, "Ez the chinese food, wasn't it? I knew it!"

"Papa, its MSG- free." Matthew sighed, "You were tired." He pointed out, "Yes, you can burn calories faster with that body, but the downside is, you tire easily as well." Francis starts to move around uncomfortably. "Your body is that of a child after all."

He pouted, getting off the bed. "And you get to stay up late? Hm?"

"Well, for a reason" Matthew shrugged, as Francis heads into the bathroom. "After tucking you to bed last night, your phone rang so I answered it. Turns out, the rest of the other things you ordered from yesterday is delivered straight to your place, so I have to drive over there to get them."

"My dear, you don't have to go to all that trouble for my clothes~!" Francis called out, washing his face as Mathieu waited outside.

"Well yes, but also most of them is food." Matthew pointed out, "Remember all the pastries you ordered before we went home? Well they'll spoil if I leave them there. They won't fit in your fridge so I had to bring some here."

"Ah, I see! Merci!"

"You're welcome." Matthew replied, as his little Papa emerged from the bathroom patting his face dry, his hair pulled tight and neatly in a high ponytail. It made him look like a young girl. "Oh, since you are staying here for a while, I brought Pierre too!"

Francis paused, looking up alarmed, "-ez he in the living room?"

"Well, yeah..."

"But what about ze bear?" he panicked.

"Papa, you do know I have Kumajiro for the longest time! He won't eat him!" He followed his worried Papa rushing downstairs. He let out a sigh of relief to see his pet safe and sound, in its cage and far away from the large cumbersome polar bear.

"Do you know he can remember my name now?" Matthew mused, as Francis tiptoed to check on his pet, a white bird with an unusually large head. "It never happened before! By the way, I hope you didn't mind that I prepared breakfast."

Francis placed Pierre back in the cage and skipped towards the table. He stared at the food prepared on his plate.

Pancakes.

Four slices of large buttermilk pancakes, topped with a rather large sunny side up egg, sided by two slices of buttered up whole wheat toast and complimented by two sausage patties.

Francis could almost feel the cholesterol arteries clogging at the sight of it, but his stomach emitted a loud growling sound, the scent that whiffed toward his direction is just so...delicious.

"See, you're already hungry." Matthew smiled, ruffling his Papa's golden locks before heading across the opposite side and sitting down. Francis is still frozen and stared at his son's plate: It was stacked twice the amount of food than he had, and beside him is a big bottle of maple syrup.

But of course, he knows how his Matthew loves his maple syrup. But all that amount of food...

"You can't have zat!" he gasped, just as Matthew squeezed a generous amount on his pancakes. "Your body, mon dieu! You know what will happen!"

"Papa..." Matthew sliced through the layers, forking a big piece. "It's okay! It's breakfast! I'll burn this throughout the day! It will be hard if I starve myself. After all, breakfast is-"

"The most important meal of the day!"

Matthew almost sprayed the juice from his mouth and Francis turned around, standing by the room's entrance is Alfred, beaming widely with a smile as bright as sunshine.

"Bro!" Matthew rubbed his mouth with the back of his palm, "H-how, when did you get in here?"

"Alfred!"

"The hero can go anywhere he wanted." he grinned widely, but Matthew looked unimpressed. "I'm kidding. You gave me a spare key before remember?"

"Well, that's still no reason to suddenly come uninvited." Matthew grumbled, noticing Alfred is getting distracted by the sight of his pouting little Papa. "You could have at least called-will you put Papa down!"

"Man, I thought we were tight and besides..." Alfred carried Francis, bouncing him on the crook of his right arm. Matthew frowned when his Papa snuggled his face underneath his brother's chin, making a purring sound. "...I took my car in the car wash after what happened the other day and, waa...will you look at that!"

"Stop that, Papa." Matthew said flatly, placing his utensils neatly on the table.

"Stop what, fils?"

Matthew stood up from across the table and moved forward, his brows knotted in a frown. Francis is undeterred by his move and snuggled even closer to Alfred. Unbeknownst to him however, Alfred silently signaled his brother to hush, and with his one free hand, took out a small metal band from his pocket and quickly snapped it to Francis's ankle.

"Waah!" he gasped, quickly releasing himself from Alfred's embrace. He inspected the band on his ankle. "What ez this?" he demanded, sitting on the floor trying to wring the item off. It locked on tight and it seemed the only way to remove it is by typing a 4-digit code.

Alfred scratched the back of his head, "Sorry! Dad's orders!" He saw Francis's face puff, giving him a betrayed look. "Hey, don't look at me like that! He just wants to keep an eye on you. He can't call Matt all the time!"

"Does he not trust me?" giving Alfred a sad wounded look, like a puppy that's been kicked over the curb. Knowing well what his Papa was up to, Matthew plucked him from where he is sitting with ease.

"Ahh! Mathieu!" he struggled briefly in his arms, before being forcibly placed down on his chair.

"Papa, Dad is doing this for your own good until he finds a cure." he pointed out, pushing his breakfast plate. "Can we just have breakfast in peace, _please_?" Matthew then turned towards his brother, "Can you hold Papa until he..."

"Non!" he lifted both hands, before Alfred can even touch him. "I can do this by myself, I will eat your cooking-after all you are my-" Francis never got to finish his sentence, his words getting garbled as he starts to wolf down the stack of pancakes and eventually he silently consumed everything without uttering a single word.

"Wow, your old man really likes your cooking!" Alfred said in amusement, as Matthew silently led him to the living room, while his Papa was distracted. "He usually criticizes anything he did _not_ cook, so yeah, what's up?"

"Any news from Dad yet?"

"Hm, nope." Alfred shrugged, "When I dropped him at his place last night, he gave me this device and then he is out like a light! But I think he will do something about it this morning, he called me up to-" he checked his watch, "-be there by 9 am."

"Alfred," Matthew sighed, "Its quarter to nine. I doubt you can even make it there on time even without the traffic."

"Yeah, which is also why I'm here." the bespectacled blond smiled, "Can I borrow any of your rides? I think I mentioned it earlier that I took mine to the car wash."

"What about the one you were driving yesterday?"

"That was Dad's~"

"Ah, I see." Matthew reached out in his back pocket for keys. He tossed them to his brother. "The jeep is in front of the garage. I had it cleaned yesterday after you guys left. You can use it."

"Sweet! Thanks!" Alfred caught the keys, "And Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"You really need to shave, man. The resemblance is creeping me out!"

Matthew frowned, he is aware of the hair growth on his body and on his face. He didn't have the time to shave his face last evening. "I'm aware of that; I'll get to it later. And besides..." Matthew turned around, he can see his Papa has finished his meal and is heading to the fridge. "-I can't have Papa eat that much, he's now going for...the sweets!' Alfred chuckled as he watched his brother briskly walk towards Francis, who was about to lay his hands on a small box of pastries. The tall blond was quick to remind his Papa about getting hyper with all the sugar, and the latter argued he might as well take advantage of eating what he can while still in his young form. It's an amusing spectacle to watch, as Matthew was quick to adapt to his role of a concerned 'father' to his, for now, 'younger' father figure.

"Okay guys, I better get going!" Alfred grabbed a banana from the fruit basket nearby and headed towards the garage. "Matt if you need anything, you know what to do! I'll update you if anything comes up!"

"A-alright!" Matthew struggled as his Papa threw a fit, "See you!"

* * *

><p>It was almost 10 am by the time Alfred arrived in Arthur's house.<p>

_Oh man, he will be so pissed. _Alfred said to himself licking his lips nervously as he stood in front of the doorstep. He is aware how Arthur is when it comes to punctuality. He pressed the doorbell and wait for the tongue lashing that was about to come.

Well, he can always point out that it was _his_ fault, Alfred thought. If he didn't throw up in his car, he won't have to borrow Matt's vehicle on the way here.

Just when Alfred was about to press the doorbell another time, the door opened.

"Yes?"

Alfred blinked a couple of times, he never have seen Arthur this pleasant when he arrives at his house. "Well, somebody is in a good mood today!"

The smaller blonde's brows furrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Alfred paused, not expecting the confused reaction. But there is something definitely strange with his Father figure today. He looks the same old Arthur, but his hair seems to look much fluffy than it should be. "Uh, after what happened yesterday?" He raised a brow suspiciously, "Dad?"

The man in front of him let out a weary sigh, "Arthur." he called out, eyeing Alfred from head to toe and then straight to his eyes. The American noticed the unusual thickness of his accent. "Your Alfred is here."

Alfred gawked, his mouth hanging from his jaw as he tries to form words from his mouth. That is not Arthur? He removed his glasses and rubbed the lenses clean, just to be sure. When the blond turned around to leave, Alfred noticed that the tips of his hair are wavy and a wee bit longer: it is tied from behind into a small ponytail.

As he put back his glasses, he saw Arthur finally heading toward his direction, looking somehow flustered and irate. "Alfred!" he started, his sleeves rolled up as wipe his arms with some washcloth. "Where have you been? You are late!"

Now, that's the Arthur he knew.

Alfred pointed at the man who just left and was heading towards a neat stack of books the the living room table. "Wait, did I-?"

"Yes, your uncle is here, Cymru." Arthur grumbled, closing the door behind them. "I can't believe you act like you never met him before."

"Dad, I swear I thought it is _you_!" Alfred gasped, as they walked inside. "I get the two of you confused most of the time!"

"It's common with brothers." Arthur's brother answered, overhearing their conversation as they approached him. "And it's also why I keep my hair to this length." he paused briefly, "Hmm, Matthew? No, silly-he is Alfred! Why yes, they also do look alike! "

Alfred stopped, looking perplexed. "Wait, what?"

Arthur's brother chuckled softly; he is talking to a presence not visible to his eye. Alfred almost forgot that he also had his share of imaginary friends just like Arthur.

"This is a serious matter, Haydn" Arthur said curtly, approaching his brother, taking out a small sack underneath the table. Alfred watched Arthur argue with the invisible creatures and tries to shoo them, much to no avail. "Do you have to bring them as well?"

"You asked for my aid, didn't you?" He replied, lifting his gaze from the browning pages of a weathered, leather-bound book to the small sack Arthur placed on top of the table. "You don't have to worry. They won't interfere." Alfred watched as Haydn turned his attention to a blank space on Arthur's right, pointing on it. "I'm more worried about, that."

Alfred watched for a while as the two argued briefly over their 'invisible' companions, when he felt the two have settled their argument, he cautiously approached them.

"Dad...?"

There is a cough.

"Oh, sorry!" Alfred faced the other, "Dad!"

Arthur's brow twitched, while his brother merely chuckled and went back browsing through the book of spells. "You git, can you not really tell us apart?"

"Uh, you're both wearing light green sweater vests."

"Arthur is wearing yellow green." Haydn pointed out, "I'm wearing a darker shade of chartreuse."

"Yeah, but it's still both light green."

Arthur grumbled in response, knowing that the description will just make no difference when it comes to Alfred, and so he just resigned to removing his own sweater vest so he can tell them apart..

"Ah, that's much better!" Alfred grinned, not noticing the annoyed look in Arthur's face. "So Uncle, what's the plan?"

"We are trying to figure out what your Father exactly did and we can take it from there." He replied calmly, "Is this the only book you borrowed from James?"

"Yes." Arthur grumbled, recalling vividly that the book itself flew past his head when he 'borrowed' it. "Do you...need the entire volume?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. You did mention it had something to do with time and balance, correct? I think you need to be more specific, it might take more than this book." He glimpsed at Arthur's face, noticing its changing colors. "Alright, I will go ask him myself if we will need more than this. For now, can you show me what you used for the incantations?"

Arthur opened the sack and poured the contents on the desk. There wasn't much: There are few pieces of candles, some fabric, chalk, folded papers with intricately drawn circular patterns. He drew them from the one he did at the attic, Arthur explained, it's originally one large circle but he was able to deduce it coming from three different patterns after doing some research in the library. Arthur went towards the nearby shelf behind his brother and took out a couple of books, all of them bearing small folded papers tucked in several pages within their spines.

"Hold it." Haydn finally spoke, inspecting the candles. Arthur looked up, with the books in hand. "You used these candles?"

"They were there half-burnt when I woke up, so yes, I did use them." he answered dryly, placing the books on the table. "Why?"

"You used red and white!" Haydn pointed out, holding the candles and shaking it in front of him. "During a full moon nonetheless!"

"I-it was full moon?" Arthur sputtered, his face slowly growing red. "That evening?"

"Yes, it was. I'm not surprised that you are not aware of it." his brother answered, "You should know better than to cast spells in such an intoxicated state! Now look at your predicament right now."

"So uh..." Alfred finally spoke, "What is with the candle's colors and full moon?"

"Ah!" Haydn looked up to the confused Alfred. "As you can see, each color correspondence must always be taken in consideration when creating and casting magic spells."

"Uh, for what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You really don't have to explain everything to him, Haydn."

"It's alright." Haydn replied, "Didn't Arthur explain the basics of spells to you?"

"He never really had interest when it comes to matters like these to begin with!" Arthur argued, not wanting for his brother to continue any further. "Isn't that right, Alfred?"

"Well yeah, Dad is right. I'm not really interested when it comes to this magic stuff." Alfred answered, "I don't believe in that kind of thing, but my bro got affected with it along the way and I really want to do anything I could to help."

Haydn looked at his brother with complete disbelief, "You even got Matthew affected? I thought the only one you hexed is Francis!"

"It was an accident!" Arthur can feel his cheeks heating up once more. "Whatever spell I cast upon that frog, he somehow passed it on to him through physical contact."

Haydn lifted an eyebrow, "Physical contact?"

"Francis slapped Matt on the bum." Alfred answered for Arthur, "So uh, what does the colors, candles and stuff have to do with the curse Dad placed upon them?"

"It's a spell." Haydn corrected him, "Colors, symbols and scents are important parts of every magic spell as they stimulate the senses and set the overall ambiance. Proper use of these key elements contributes to the effectiveness of every spell and ritual." he continued, presenting the half-burned candles to Alfred as he explains everything as elementary possible. "Your father used red and white candles."

"And...what does it mean?"

"Red chiefly represents passion, love, strength, will power and it increases magnetism in a ritual." he held out the white ones, "And this, represents the balance of all colors. It's effective for spiritual enlightenment, purification, healing, truth-seeking-"

Arthur does not like where the conversation is going, "Haydn!"

"And it's also used in rituals that draw in lunar energy." He concluded, eyeing the reddening Arthur disapprovingly. "Unfortunately, your Father decided to use both of these candles under a full moon, where the effectiveness of spell casting is at its most potent."

"Oh wow, ouch." Alfred answered as he starts to process everything that he heard, trying to connect the dots: The color red for love and passion, Arthur placing a spell on Francis-there is no denying the history the two had together. He cannot place where the white color will fit in though.

"So Dad," He finds himself asking Arthur, "What was it that the two of you fought about at that time?"

"I told you before, I can't remember!"

"But this might make you remember though." Haydn remarked, looking at the set of candles that he finally sets down the table, pondering about what it could be as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, something must have happened ages ago that you haven't resolved with Francis up to now. He probably did something as of late that triggered that memory and it upsets you, probably enough to get yourself drunk, but that's just me. And knowing the relationship you both have, you _just_ had to do something to remind him of that."

Arthur was sputtering at his loss for words as Alfred gawked in silent amazement. His uncle was able to deduce that by basing it on the colors used for spell casting?

"You haven't thought of that?" He asked Arthur, "The colors you used is already a dead giveaway, and it involves Francis." he lifted at the piece of fabric, "This happens to be his handkerchief am I right?"

Arthur nodded silently and Alfred let out a gasp. "Ah! Oh I remember that night. Dad was like, about to tear Francis apart so I had to pull him off. He must have taken that from his breast pocket while he was mumbling weird stuff."

"Oh? Weird stuff you say?" Haydn inquired as Arthur resigned to the chair behind him. "Arthur, is this where you told me you remember a part of the incantation before casting the actual spell on Francis?"

"Yes, it is..." Arthur grumbled, his color having subsided, pondering on the words his brother have told him. "I've written what I remembered... " He pointed at the small stack of books he took out, "-and I made notes as well."

"Maybe I can help with that," Alfred suggested, "I think I can remember some of Dad's ramblings when I tried to pry him off. It's pretty much uh...a lot."

"That would be most helpful," Haydn smiled, clapping his hands together. "Try to write what you can remember hearing, we will take it from there."

"Sure!" Alfred grinned, "This is cool, we're all making improvement!" he raised a high five towards Arthur who merely glared at him. Alfred laughed uneasily and scratched the back of his head. "Haha...who knew it could get this complicated though."

"Alfred, it's not like you can wish everything back with a swish of a magic wand." The older Kirkland continued, noticing his brother's brow twitch. "You can't be careless with spell casting, there are laws to follow or else there will be grave consequences. This is why we need to figure this out as soon as possible. When it comes to rituals like these, you cannot gain anything without first giving something in return."

"To obtain, something of equal value must be lost-" Arthur finds himself saying. "Something will happen...oh bollocks, the first rule."

"Yes, the _first_ rule." His brother went around him, giving him a light head slap. "Now you must try to recall what triggered you to cast a spell on Francis! I already gave you a head start, now all we need is to look at these notes and incantations you gave me for additional clues."

"So this spell, is this really a serious one, like a matter of life and death spell?"

"As of this moment, I'm afraid I have no clue." Haydn replied, his brows furrowing as he pored over the illustrations. He resembles Arthur more with that kind of frown. "But while we all try to figure this out, it's better to keep an eye on them."

"Alfred," Arthur sighed wearily as he stood up, approaching him. "You've been to your brother's place, how are they?"

"They're alright for now; they were having a lively morning chat over breakfast when I got there." Alfred replied, "I placed the tracking device on Francis just like what you told me to do and Matt will call if anything get weird."

"That's good...jolly good." Arthur nodded, patting his son's shoulder as he wearily walked past him. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I'm going upstairs...there might be something else that I might have missed."

Alfred watched as Arthur silently headed upstairs and towards the attic, where the source of all the current chaos begun.

"If he didn't come back here in half an hour, you better check on him." Haydn pointed out, his eyes not leaving the piece of paper he has been studying for some time. "He might find something that can be useful to us and I feel like your Father is not telling me something."

Arthur does look visibly shaken and a little pale when he left them, Alfred noticed.

"Did dad mention to you about the bad dream he had last night?" He wondered out loud.

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong> Haydn – OC: Wales. I only borrowed the namesake from Candesceres's OC (I'm running out of ideas at this time OTL), she writes the best developed country OCs and I learned lots from it. I based Wale's appearance from a pixiv fan art (which I still have to find and I will edit here if I did OTL) which showed him resembling Arthur up front, with only slight differences such as having a longer and tied hair.

About the magic and color correspondence: these are just the basic stuff that I come across on reading novels and browsing some Wiccan sites. I really don't know that much and I will keep the details about the spell itself vague.


	6. Chapter 5: Keep calm and act like Papa

**The Switch**

**{ Chapter 05 – Keep calm and act like Papa }**

**A/N:** Hi guys, sorry for the late update again. I assure you this fic is far from dead, it's just I got this projects and I only have one brain, sob. Not thoroughly betad but I also don't want to keep you guys waiting durr hurr.

Also in my head canon, Matthew is uh…_really_ tall. Yep.

* * *

><p>Matthew left Alfred a message that they'll be leaving for Francis's house early that day. Since his Papa would be staying for an indefinite time in his place, they would be getting some items he'll need.<p>

And that _he_ might need, Francis pointed out. Matthew's size is perfect for his suits, he can borrow them, if he doesn't feel going to the process of fitting and buying clothes in his favorite high-end boutiques. As Alfred borrowed the jeep by the driveway, their next option is Matt's red motorbike, to which the young Francis protested on riding, after the traumatizing incident from yesterday. Instead, the two took the train.

"Look up." Francis looked up, reminding him. They boarded during the rush hour and are standing in the middle of the coach. Matthew shifted uncomfortably at the stares he is getting. His height and tousled blond locks stood out in the crowd like a sore thumb. "Be confident! What's with that awkward look?"

"I-I'm still not used to this." He mumbled, holding his Papa close to him as the train stopped to load/unload more passengers. They will be getting off by the next stop.

"Well, you better start getting used to it, no?" He said out loud, enough for few passengers to turn their heads around. Matthew feels like shrinking, all 6 feet and 5 inches of him. "You are not plain looking or as loud like Alfred. You don't have to do anything to get noticed, because _Papa_, you are gorgeous! Your looks and your charm itself speak volumes!"

His little Papa is definitely enjoying his role as his 'son', tiptoeing and encircling his arms around his waist, looking at him endearingly with those round bright blue eyes. His words are sincere and Matthew can't help but be warmed and gently stroked his hair.

He blush a little, few of the onlookers smiled at them. "Merci...I mean...thanks."

"You're welcome" Francis snuggled, "And Papa? You also look good in zat black turtleneck sweater. You must wear zat kind of style often!"

And Matthew was once reminded again how nitpicky his Papa is when it comes to dressing him up.

"Y-yes."

* * *

><p>It's not very often that Matthew gets to visit his Papa, since he doesn't stay in one in one place for very long. He doesn't recall entering a sprawling three-floor mansion, located in the city's high-end district. It is very spacious and classy, just like its owner.<p>

Francis is quite eager to reach the living room, bouncing over the white sofa couch and heading to the adjoining bar area to reach the nearest phone. As he struggled to sit on a tall bar stool, he pressed the button of his answering machine.

He can hear Matthew following suit several feet behind him.

"You have 1,278 new messages." Came the mechanical voice in French.

"Hm, zat's a little above the average." He pondered, swinging his slender little legs impatiently by the stool as he proceeds to browse through all of them.

"Francis, I got a new secret video of West. You'll love it! I'll be sending it in a while. Kesesesese. Oh shi-..."

"Francis, you left your shirt on my headboard just in case you were wondering where it is. Romano saw it and threw a fit. I saved it before he could make a campfire out of it."

"It's Elizaveta. There's a new bar you might like. They offer 'yummy dishes', if you know what I mean. Tell me when you want to go there."

"You frog!"

"Francis, we have a meeting next week. You'd better wear your underwear then and please refrain from talking about birds and their nests unless you're REALLY talking about an actual bird. Thank you."

Francis heard a loud thud and a painful groaning sound.

"Oh dear!" he turned around to see Matthew having slipped on a white plastic mat on the floor. "Are you alright, cher?"

"W-what is this?" Matthew tries to stand up, but almost slipped once again. He wiped some sticky and chunky goop from behind his head, its brownish white in color and it stinks. He lifted up his shoe, and he felt he stepped on something far more questionable-and stickier. He felt like gagging.

"Oh! Desole!" Francis gasped, "I forgot that all three of us had naked twister the night before I went to ze party!"

"N-naked twister?"

"Oui, its ze game where you to try to reach for the numbers-"

"I know what twister is!" Matthew sputtered, "I don't want to know the naked part of it!" he looked extremely disgusted, stepping away immediately from the mucky part of the white mat. Bottles of beer and wine, burnt out tobaccos, some pieces of clothing, foil wrappers, littered the area. He does not want to know what those wrappers contained. "I need to wash my hair-Papa," Francis' attention is back to the answering machine again. "Where is the bathroom?"

"Oh, go straight ahead and it's on the first door to your right, just before ze large aquarium" Francis' tossed his hair as he continued to browse through the stream of messages. "Oh, while you're there, can you try calling the housekeeping? I need to have the mess in the living room cleaned!"

"You have a phone even in the bathroom?" Francis heard Matthew as he went ahead, shaking his head. "Papa, you are so unbelievable."

* * *

><p>The housekeeping arrived and while the living room is being cleaned, Matthew have to catch up with his Papa, who, after browsing through his phone messages, set about gathering empty boxes while collecting items that he planned to take with them.<p>

He never knew storage boxes came in deep brown sweet smelling leather with the familiar VL logos.

"Papa, this is impractical!" Matthew sighed, watching his Papa move like a little tornado, placing a sleek looking white lamp in a box, only for Matthew to take it out. "You don't need all of this!"

"But I will be staying in your place for an indefinite time!" his voice was muffled as he gathered some foodstuffs, wrapped in white towels. He tossed it in one of the boxes, as Matthew crouched near one, curiously taking out 6 pairs of sleeping eye masks. He lifted both his brows. Francis pouted, grabbing them from him and putting them back. "I might as well take most of my things with me!"

"But where are we going to put all of these?"

"In my ride of course, silly!" He answered, turning around and rushing upstairs. "You can choose what you think is best from the garage!"

"But you never let anyone near your cars!" Matthew called out, as Francis tossed about ten suits, still in their plastic covers and hangers, for him to catch. It all hit him on the face. "Ow! Papa!"

"Who said anything about you driving?" He peeked out from the railings, tossing another suit and a couple of plastic boxes, Matthew caught the items this time. "I have a chauffeur always on call 24/7! You are going to explain what haz happened and then we are good to go~!"

"Yeah, sure...that's nice." Matthew gathered the items that have fallen on the floor, "Papa, I don't need all these suits-"

"Oh but you will!" he called out, heading swiftly down the stairway with smaller boxes and a couple of bags. "You are going to wear them, especially when the need arises!"

"The need arises?" he looked at his Papa curiously and at the bags he has been carrying. "What's with the purses?"

"Ez not a purse, It's a satchel! I sometimes bring them in meetings, they contain important documents!" he argued, pacing at the floor quickly and into the living room, stacking his items in the storage boxes. He glanced at one of the open boxes "Did you take something out?"

"Yeah, I took out the wine bottles from there." Matthew watch his Papa's eyes widen. "Papa, you cannot drink wine or any form of liquor, not like that! Remember what happened during breakfast yesterday!"

"So what, I threw up just a little!" He pouted, placing his hands on his hips. He dug in his other boxes. "Fine! But did you take out my knife set as well? And my cooking pans? Because if you did-"

"No, I didn't take out any of your precious cooking utensils." Matthew answered, "But please, avoid bringing too many items, We might not have enough room for all of them!"

"Mm, let Papa worry about that later, fils." He double-checks the contents of the boxes. "As of now, do you have my suits?"

"Yes, I do." Matthew reached out for them, "Uh, about 10 sets of them."

"Good!" he called out, his voice echoing as he dug to one of his boxes. "Do you have ze white one, it comes with a burgundy..."

"Your favorite suit? Yeah, I have it here." Matthew raised the set, still covered in plastic. "What do you want me to do with it?"

Francis looked up, looking slightly flushed from all the packing. He smiled. "What else could it be? You are going to wear it, dear!"

"Like-right now?"

"Oui! Right now!" He leaps up to his feet. "It turns out that the EU conference I'm supposed to be attending is this afternoon! I promised Allemagne I'll behave and stay fully clothed.. " he chuckled, "And there will be paperwork that will need my approval..."

Matthew found himself sputtering, "W-wait...I'm going to...?"

"Oui~"

"NO!"

"Why not?" Francis skipped forward, looking up at him with his large round blue eyes, his hands folded at the back. "My clothes fit you, you take after my handsome looks-" he smiled, "-it's a good thing I told you not to shave yet."

"Still-!"

"The meeting won't be long; it will just take an hour!" Francis persisted, inching closer to him. "All you need to do is sit quietly throughout the proceedings, pretend to listen and when Ludwig calls for me-" he pressed a small digit on Matthew's firm stomach. "You simply sign some documents. If they find you quite strange, just tell them you're not feeling too well. Oh, and don't forget to flirt and wink and touch people sometimes. They'll find it really strange if you don't do those."

"Papa!" Matthew exclaimed. "I couldn't possibly...!"

"Yes, you cannn~" Francis encircled his arms around Matthew's waist. "I will help you out. Just do this for your Papa, just this once~!"

"Well...it seems really important." Matthew shifted reluctantly, "Fine, I'll try to do it..."

Francis let out an excited squeal and embraced him tightly, reaching far enough to squeeze his buttocks. Matthew let out a surprised yelp and jumped, his little Papa giggling at his reaction.

Some habits just do not change.

"Now, you take my suit and change in the bathroom." Francis pushed him playfully forward as he held the suit close to his chest. "Then come back here and I'll help you prepare, agreed?"

"Agreed." Matthew mumbled, as he headed back to the bathroom. While his Papa isn't looking, he fished out his phone from his pocket.

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, in the Kirkland residence...<em>

Arthur nearly got thrown to the ground when the door behind him flew past his head.

"You-!" He scampered to his feet, turning around. Alfred stood at the entrance. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"I was knocking!" Alfred stepped inside, "You haven't responded for like 10 minutes and I thought something happened..."

"He must have cast a silence spell-" They heard the other Kirkland from downstairs, "that's why he didn't hear anything."

"No, I didn't!" Arthur argued, "I'm at the farthest end of the room-wait, did you send him here?"

"Yes, I did." Haydn replied, walking towards the staircase. "I'm concerned; you look a little pale a while ago."

"You know he will negate any possible spell if he enters this room!"

"True, that's also another reason why I sent him." He sounded amused as he walks back to the living room. Arthur can hear him say something in his native language, chuckling.

"Oh, so you do not trust me then?"

Haydn didn't reply and as Arthur silently fumed, Alfred tapped him on the shoulder.

"What?"

"Matt is on the other line!." Alfred showed him his phone, it's live. "He said they're in Francis's place and he is going to the EU conference because..."

There was a surprised shout. Alfred quickly held the phone close, "-whoa! Hey, Matt! You're breaking up! Matt!"

Then other line went dead.

"Dad?" Alfred watched as Arthur turns beet red once more. Not a good sign. He starts to run his hands over his scalp, muttering curses underneath his breath.

He inhaled deeply, "They're at the frog's place you say?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's head there, now!"

* * *

><p>Even with his small size, Francis still proves to be a force to be reckoned with. Having followed his son to the bathroom and catching him on the phone calling Arthur, he tackled him on the floor, grabbed the phone and flung it into the trash can.<p>

"Papa!" Matthew pries off an annoyed Francis from him. "Dad needs to know where we go!"

"You don't have to tell him everything all the time!" He shouted, stomping off towards the trash can, reaching for the phone. "You know how he reacts! From now on, I will be keeping this! Now, dress up quickly and I will be waiting for you in the living room."

"But-"

"No buts!" He fumed, as he stormed outside. "Get dressed now!"

* * *

><p>Wearing and fitting threads in front of his Papa is still something Matthew has to get used to. He can't help but feel uncomfortable when he sees that mischievous spark in his eyes as he slowly turned around for his approval.<p>

"It feels a little tight." Matthew remarked, lifting each arm, tugging the sleeves.

"But can you move and twist around? Bend over?"

He moved around a bit, "Yeah, pretty much I guess."

"Then it fits you just perfectly!" He jumped down from his sofa, dragging a cushioned chair towards Matthew. "A nice suit molds to your form, just like a glove!" he explained, "You are taller than me so it's natural to be tight in some areas, it will loosen up eventually!"

"Eventually?"

Francis perched on his chair, his face now level with his son's. "Ez made with a special fabric that allows stretching itself to fit. Its waterproof too~"

"Your suits...are waterproof?"

"Oui, oui...now let's get started!" he clapped his hands and pointed at a pair of heeled loafers at the far left corner. "You need to wear zat loafers, as they might wonder why 'I' grew taller, and then you can point out that ez the shoes!"

Matthew frowned a little; the heeled loafers have pointy tips. He can puncture someone's leg with it. He slipped his feet into them nonetheless and they fit perfectly.

"Now come to Papa and I will fix your hair!" Matthew rolled his eyes as he stepped forward, his Papa's dainty hands reaching for him. He pulled him close, taking a whiff of his hair's scent.

"Oh, you really are my fils~!" he sighed, stroking his long blond locks with his fingertips, caressing it. "You have my gorgeous blond hair, so silky smooth!"

"Papa..."

"Ah, right!" he looks up, "We will fix your hair a little!" He materializes a spray bottle with one hand, Matthew quickly stepped back. "This ez only a volumizer! It will give your hair that extra body!"

"Don't put too much! It will make me sme-"

"It won't make you less than a man!" Francis stomped his foot, spraying some on his head quickly. Matthew flinched but Francis is quick to muss his golden locks. "Now, your hair looks infinitely better!"

"And it smells funny." He grumbled. "I will be just be you for a day!"

"Hush! Now move closer, your clothes!"

Matthew sighed, moving forward so Francis' dainty hands reached his coat's collar, or rather HIS coat's collar, smoothing it out evenly.

"If you are going as _moi _in ze world conference meeting, you must look the part!" He exclaimed, trying to conceal Matthew's hair curl by tucking it delicately behind his ear. Frustrated that it wouldn't press down, he took out a comb and brushed it vigorously until it did. "Stop ze shaking! I'm fixing your hair, not squeezing your vital regions!"

"B-but..." Matthew sputtered, trying to swat his Papa's hand. "It hurts!"

Just when he thought that the worse was over, Francis starts to make a tch-tch sound, shaking his head disapprovingly. This did not bode well with Matthew. Before he could even react, his Papa reached for his maroon-colored polo shirt underneath, grabbed the collar, and gave it a quick pull on both sides, ripping it wide open down to his chest.

"Wahh!" Matthew screamed, stumbling backwards with his face flushing red. "Papa!"

"Now zats more like it!" He purred, tapping his chin thoughtfully, very pleased at what he was seeing from head to toe. "When you got ze assets, you flaunt it, no?"

"I'm going to look like a...pimp!"

"Non! This is much better than earlier!" He argued, planting both hands on his hips. "You looked like that stuck-up Englishman with my favorite shirt buttoned up to your chin! You are not going to a library!" He observed his son grumbling, attempting to fix the shirt's collar begrudgingly. "Now come, I still have yet to unshy you!"

"I've had enough unshying, thank you very much!" Matthew spat, "No accessories!"

"I won't give you any accessories!" He stomped his foot, "Just come!"

Matthew inched closer.

"Move cloooser!"

Matthew stepped forward, until his face and that of his Papa's were but a few inches close.

He giggled, "Excellent, now bend a little!"

Francis pulled off Matthew's glasses.

"Perfect!"

"No! Not that-hey!" Matthew gasped, immediately reaching for the glasses, but Francis quickly ducked and slipped them into his pocket. He jumped off the chair, giggling like an excitable child as Matthew reached out one more time. "Papa, give it back! It's not funny!"

"Nooon!" He skipped around him. "Don't be foolish, mon fils, you are not blind without them!" He stretched out his hand, "-how many fingers~?"

"Five! I can see that..." Matthew bends slightly and squinted, "but..."

"Then they will be with me until the conference is over!" He concluded with a sweet smile.

Matthew's legs suddenly grew weak. The problem would be how he would get it from Francis. Yesterday, he already had a hard time keeping him _still _in one place.

"You can do this!" He stepped forward and on his tiptoes, reached for Matthew's face with both hands and drew him closer to him. Blond locks dropped loosely to frame his face. "Have confidence in yourself-" He kissed him soundly on the lips and alternated on both cheeks.

"You are my boy! We are more similar than you think!" he re-assured him, running his slender fingers from Matthew's cheekbones and downwards to his rugged chin. "Look at you, resembling your old man ! I can't wait for a couple of more centuries and I could just kiss you all day!"

"Papa, you are so narcissistic." Matthew said flatly, slowly straightening himself up. "By the way, my eyes-"

"Ez not a problem. Try to avoid prolonged eye contact and...squint!" Francis was about to tap him on the rump but Matthew was able to step aside to avoid it. He chuckled. "Ez all in the lighting! Do you know that when you widen your eyes they do look a little blue, just like mine?"

"They do?" Matthew lifted his brows, "I...didn't notice that."

"Yes they do, especially when you're still a baby." He sighed, with a tinge of nostalgia in his voice. "Now, I will explain everything once you call the chauffeur! His number is on speed dial..."

"Uh, right..." Matthew said, "I informed the housekeep earlier, I think his name is Paul and he's been informed about the situation and is already waiting outside by the garage."

"That's good!" Francis exclaimed, and then looking up at the clock. "We don't have much time, you go ahead and tell him to take to you to the conference!"

"What about you?" He gestured at the half-packed boxes as his Papa headed swiftly towards the boxes. "And this?"

"I will take care of zat later!" He pushed a thick, slate gray satchel towards him. "This is important, there are papers need to be signed, you know my signature right?"

"Y-yeah I do."

"Good! And lastly, remember to respond in bits of French! _European _French, you still remember?"

Matthew adjusted the satchel by his shoulder. "Y-yes, I still know my French."

"And if you come across Antonio and Gilbert, do you know what to do?" He starts pushing him towards the other end of the room as they headed towards the garage.

"Uh-tell them I'm sick?"

"Non! You do not avoid them!" Francis exclaimed, "People will get suspicious! And besides, those two won't notice if something has changed in my appearance. They're smart like that~"

"W-what will I do then?"

"Well, I always greet Antonio with a slap and squeeze on his rump." Francis smiled impishly, "If you ignore that glorious ass, they'll definitely be suspicious." He opened the door, the chauffeur is already waiting, the color of the car matching Francis' suit. "Don't look at me like zat! You haven't tried it yet! His behind is so..."

"T-this is not about Antonio's behind!" Matthew argued. "It's the EU conference, wouldn't Dad be there? And he knows about thi-"

"Non! He and his brother have excused themselves from the meeting, you don't have to worry about zat!" He gave him one push and the chauffeur tipped his hat and opened the door to the car. "Take him to the conference! It's being held at the same hotel like last week. Make sure he gets there in time!"

The chauffeur quietly nodded and headed towards the driver's seat, as Matthew tries to adjust his vision without the glasses.

"Je t'adore mon garcon!" Francis called out, waving his handkerchief dramatically in the air as Matthew slowly but surely headed inside the car, almost hitting his head on the vehicle's roof. In minutes the car is speeding out from the driveway to the main road.

"Make Papa proud!"

"You..."

Francis was completely unaware that Arthur was already standing several feet behind him, having entered the house unnoticed from the entrance.

"What do you think you are doing?" He hissed, trying to catch his breath, his sudden presence making Francis jump a little. The effeminate blond turned around to face the Englishman with his surprised and confused round, blue eyes. Arthur could have been fooled with such feigned innocence; if this was the 900s.

"I'll ask you again," He breathed deeply, "What have you done to Matthew?"

"Oh, mon cher!" he giggled, flicking his wrist saucily much to Arthur's dismay. "I sent for my dear Mathieu for ze EU conference! I'm really needed there you see, but I cannot go in this form! Who else do you think could fill me in~?"

"That's for me to decide!" He snapped. "He is under the crown and cannot leave until he returns back to normal, and he..." His gaze shifted outside, he is already a little too late.

"Dad!" Alfred called out, Francis also didn't see him enter the house. "Use your teleportation magic or something!"

"I can't! It's not something I can do all of a sudden..." Arthur started to sputter, looking around the area, confused. "I..." He noticed the scattered clothes which he remembers belonged to his son. He turned back to Francis, looking ever so cool as a cucumber like nothing was amiss. It took a lot of will power for Arthur not to shake Francis violently, knowing all too well the unfair advantage.

"Hey, those are Mattie's glasses!" Alfred exclaimed, pointing at Francis' hand. "What are you doing with them?"

And with that, Arthur grabbed Francis' hand and dragged him inside.

* * *

><p><em>You can do this, Matt. You can pull through. It is just going to be for a day.<em>

Matthew took in a few deep breaths and slowly opened his eyes to the reflection in the small mirror in front of him. His amethyst eyes, he blinked. If he is not careful, they will notice he is not Francis.

He has to remind himself, when he reaches this stage in his life, he will really shave often.

"Monsieur Williams?" the chauffeur asked, "Are you alright? We are already here."

"Yes, I'm fine."

"There is a phone in the satchel." The chauffeur pointed out, "You can call me if you need anything else, or when you're ready to go home."

"That will be soon." Matthew grumbled. "I can't believe I got talked into this. I think I better get going."

"Good luck, Monsieur."

"Thanks."

They slowed down by the entrance and the valet opened the door. Matthew inhaled deeply once more, placing one foot outside, then another and finally stepping out of the vehicle.

He straightened himself up and adjusted the strap of his bag.

He will need all the luck to pull everything off.

* * *

><p><em>Have confidence in yourself!<em>

He strode at the hotel's corridor, trying to remember his Papa's mannerisms. Stand straight up, walk-no, strut-just like those models he sees in his fashion runways. It is something he tries to get used to, especially with his heeled pointy loafers. Look straight ahead, just try to go to the meeting without any distractions. He fervently hopes he does not come across a familiar face.

He must be quick. He tells himself again. But he doesn't have to show he is in a hurry. Everything his Papa does, he does it with sophistication and style-even if he is going to be late for a meeting. Will he apologize if he arrives late? No. He would rather tell everyone he had a grand time last evening which is why he woke up late and no one could do anything about it, they will need him to sign some important documents after all. Matthew has to remind himself not to be too polite.

"Ack!" he tripped forward, almost falling face flat on the floor. It's the weird loafers. He looked around and noticed a few passer-bys staring at him, some of them he swore, look like the other countries diplomats.

_Relax, Matthew. Act like him. _

_What will Papa do?_

He straighten himself up, dusts his slacks, feigning a frown, looking at the on-lookers ever so haughtily and lifting his chin up, proceeded to walk towards the elevators like nothing has happened.

It seemed like forever just going there. He grumbled internally. He passed by the lobby and saw a couple of familiar figures, which he is quick to sense as one of his own: one of them is a tall disgruntled man with thick auburn hair and even thicker eyebrows. His companion, smaller than him with a couple of inches, shared the same qualities, saved for the lighter shade of hair and a dash of freckles on his face.

_Oh crap..._

Matthew's eyes accidentally met his gaze. "Francis?"

It was his Dad's older brother, James. Matthew is also aware of the history he and his Papa had together. He remembers he is not to avoid anyone.

But by now the brothers, his uncles, are aware of what has happened. But to what extent, Matthew does not know. Alfred was only able to inform him that there were a lot of angry shouts, involving skirts and their Father's incompetency when they came to borrow some items in the older Kirkland's household.

"Not now, L'Ecosse~!" he said, dismissing the perplexed James with a simple wave, avoiding further eye contact._ Look straight ahead._Matthew swallowed, nervously biting his lip and glancing on his side. Are they following him? They're not. Good. Because Matthew is very certain he can't fool either two.

He was quick to catch the elevator before it closed on him. He then quickly pressed the button, recalling the meeting will be held on the 16th floor. Matthew silently thanked the heavens that no one else he knows is on board.

*Ding*

He took a deep breath once more as he finally stepped out of the elevator. He can see some of the other nations are still outside the lobby and some have seen him already.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, and don't forget to flirt and wink and touch people sometimes. They'll find it really strange if you don't do those.<em>

So far so good. Matthew smirked at the sight of the Italian brothers as he passed them by. Feliciano waved and greeted him, while Romano glared. He winked back and complimented how cute Feliciano looked, just like he knew how his Papa would do it.

"Ve, your voice sounds a little strange~!" Feliciano exclaimed, as he followed him, much to the annoyance of his dark-haired brother. "Big brother, are you sick?"

Matthew coughed a little, "Oui~! Caught a little cold at the party last night, but this ez nothing!" he exclaimed, trying to modulate his voice. Feliciano is now beside him. Reluctantly, he took out his one free hand and glided it discreetly towards his waist, making his eyes heavily-lidded. The sultry expression will dim the actual color of his eyes. "There is nothing big brother Francis can handle~"

"Huh? But the after party was the other night!"

Matthew let out a nervous laugh, trying to imitate his Papa's mirthful laughter. "Ah, is that so? I see then hmm..." He saw the door and the poor blond decided to slowly drop the act, releasing his hand from Feliciano's waist as he headed towards it. Matthew can see Romano's face several feet behind them, as red as a ripe tomato and sputtering a string of profanities.. "-I will talk to you later, mon cher. For now, important matters are at hand, au rev-!"

Blagag.

Matthew accidentally hit his face on the door.

Damn it, he really _needs_ his glasses.

He can see Feliciano's eyes widen and from a distance he heard Romano snort. Other nations who happen to be around the corridor stopped, surprised to see what have just happened. This is the second accident to happen to him this day and the conference room is just a feet in front of him.

He resisted the instinct to feel embarrassed, no, he must press on, just act like his Papa.

He smiled, straightening his blond locks, "Pardon moi, but I haven't had proper sleep as of last night~" and he winked. Matthew didn't wait for them to respond; he opened the door and quietly slipped inside. The conference is about to start.

Matthew searched for his Papa's name plate.

It's beside Ludwig's.

* * *

><p>The meeting proceed to go on well, if not, almost without incident that, Ludwig finds himself glancing suspiciously now and then beside the flamboyant nation who looked so bored, detached with his surroundings, scribbling notes on a leather bound organizer.<p>

Matthew will steal quick glances now and then, finding the look so unnerving; Ludwig's piercing blue depths seem to search his very soul, as if he is trying to discern that the one sitting beside him is not Francis at all. He never felt so naked in his life.

"I am not feeling well." He feigned a tired sigh, to answer Ludwig's suspicious look. Matthew followed it with a smile and briefly touched the other blond nation on the shoulder. "Oh cher, if this bothers you, I promise _not_ to behave next time."

Ludwig is quick to brush it off. "Nein."

"Non?"

"You haven't taken out the documents yet. We are waiting."

"Oh!" _Oh, yes those documents._ Matthew gave himself a mental kick on the head. He laughed lightly and took out a brown folder containing the important documents his Papa is referring to earlier. He handed it out to Ludwig.

"-you haven't signed it yet."

"Ah, of course!"

Matthew browse through the documents, the fine written details are faintly blurred and he have to squint closer to the paper to the portion where he have to sign. He hesitated for a moment. In the name of god's green earth, what the bloody hell is he doing? What if they figured out he is not Francis Bonnefoy? Does not that constitute as an act of forgery? How does that even work with nations? But Papa did give him the authority but there is no...

Ludwig let out a cough, breaking Matthew's train of thought. He nervously took out his pen and taking a deep breath, slowly and surely signed with his Papa's signature. He quickly handed it over and watches as the taciturn blond signed as well. It seems to feel like forever until he handed it back to him.

"What ez this?" he blinked in surprise as Ludwig handed more paperwork.

"These will require your approval." Ludwig replied curtly, "Your boss have already read and approved of the policies, all you need to do is sign them."

"All of them? Right now?" Matthew's eyes widened, not expecting he would sign that many.

Ludwig gave him a look like it's the most obvious answer in the world. Matthew frowned and nodded, taking the papers. "Oui...fine, if that's the way it should be."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Didn't I told you earlier that I'm not feeling well?" he replied irritatingly, signing each document carefully, making sure that each is identical to what Matthew remembers.

"You are leaning too close to the paper, Francis." Ludwig pointed out.

Matthew just replied by chuckling softly, while internally wishing that everything will be over immediately.

_That's because I cannot see properly. _He grumbled, signing the last document and arranging everything neatly before handling them back to Ludwig. There, he said to himself, letting a small sigh of relief as he leaned back to his chair, folding his fingers in front of him. He have done what he came for and he can't wait to drop the act and go home. Ludwig didn't think twice of scanning through the documents and put them all neatly in one envelope. In a few minutes, the meeting was adjourned and one by one they took their leave.

Matthew glanced at the area across him, squinting. The area where his Dad and his uncle should be sitting to represent the United Kingdom is vacant. Matthew regretted glancing towards that direction when he saw the familiar auburn-haired nation once again. James sat up with a start and Matthew saw him looking surprised as he slowly mouthed his Papa's name.

I really need to get going. He said to himself, standing up quickly and packing his things. He placed the strap of the satchel over his shoulder and swiftly, he headed out of the conference room.

* * *

><p>Matthew was barely half-way towards the elevator when someone's hand heavily clamped down on his shoulder.<p>

He looked irritatingly at his side and realized it was Gilbert, with a silly grin plastered on his face.

Oh god, why does it have to be now.

"Bonnefoooy!" He drawled, encircling his arm over Matthew's shoulders, pressing some of his weight against him as they walked. "You didn't respond to my calls! You got me worried! I thought you weren't attending the conference!"

"I almost didn't." He responded, "Ez the after party, I have a little too much. Now, If you don't mind, I'm not feeling well and-"

"Well of course, you _aren't_." and Gilbert pulled him close, bringing one hand to his head, giving him a noggin. Did he even understand what he is trying to say? "-not until we all hang out! This time, it's gonna be at my place! I call Antonio!" and he released him, heading towards his comrade who is standing few feet away from them. "Heey, Antonio!"

Antonio is facing the opposite direction, apparently reading a message in his phone.

"_Well, I always greet Antonio with a slap and squeeze on his rump." _Matthew remembers his Papa's advice. _"If you ignore that glorious ass, they'll definitely be suspicious."_

Gilbert greeted Antonio the same way he did to Matthew, hooking his arm over his shoulders.

_Slap...Antonio's behind..._

Matthew bit his lip as he approached closer, it felt like everything have centered on this moment. If he does not do it, they wouldn't believe he is Francis.

'Smack!'

He gave the round firm tush a quick squeeze, before drawing his hand out in disgust. Antonio quickly turned around.

"Francis, _hola_!" he beamed at him. Matthew cannot believe it. His Papa was not joking when he was told how oblivious the Spaniard is.

"Well,_ bonjour~_" Matthew smirked, trying to mask his disbelief. He tried to strike a conversation, remembering the phone messages he overheard earlier. "I heard you have my shirt?"

"Si! It's back in my house; do you want to get it now?"

Matthew nodded curtly, trying to conceal his eagerness to leave. Yes, he would want to go to Antonio's house and get the shirt, only because the country of passion happens to always stay near where Papa's place is. He can call Paul, tell him to meet him there and excuse himself from the party or whatever it is, Matthew does not know how LONG he could keep up pretending to be Papa.

Gilbert let out a loud guffaw that nearly made Matthew jump. "What are you saying, mein freund? To my place first!"

They all turned to him with expectant expressions clearly written in their faces. More on, they look like they're about to seize someone's vital regions, Matthew shuddered, noting Gilbert's mischievous grin. His Papa would never turn down the company of his long-time comrades.

He has no choice.

He forced his smirk a little wider, even if he feels like dying a little inside. Just for tonight, he will just have to get through this, _tonight._

"Well, what are we all waiting for~?"

"Alright! Kesesese..."

"Hey Francis, you seem rather taller today..."

"Ez the new shoes~"


	7. Chapter 6: A Night with the Bad Friends

**The Switch**

**{ Chapter 06 – A Night with the Bad Friends}**

**A/N: **AAHH. Another late update! I didn't forget this, it's just last month I have to concentrate making preparations for a complex cosplay skit and now I'm on the roll and joined a video contest, the updates will be faster since this one is less stressful lol.

Note for those who might have forgotten: Haydn- OC!Nation, Wales.

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, Kirkland residence<em>

"Do you think it's a good idea that we bring him here?"

"For the time being, yes," Arthur grumbled, answering Alfred's question as he sips his cup of tea, not bothering to look up as he browsed through his notes. Across the dining table was Francis, tied down on a chair, with his torso, wrists and ankles bounded tight.

"This ez not fair!" He protested, struggling from his binds. "Do you really think doing this ez necessary?" He tried to wriggle one foot free to no avail, "Ez this not enough for you?"

Arthur's brow twitched, "It is necessary! Look-" he pointed his finger, "Like I've said before, this could be all fun and games for you Francis, but think about Matthew! You have him masquerading around as you, in a bloody conference! What if the rest of the world finds out? What then?"

"Ez not like they're not aware of what you're capable of, Angleterre. "

"It's not the same thing!"

"Zat conference is really important for moi!" Francis spat, forcing himself forward. "I could have been there! But non, you just have to chose ze day to hex me! And you can't even remember what it is! Now whatever it is, my dear Matthieu caught it. So whose fault is it? Really?"

Alfred watched as his father nation become dreadfully silent, his face slowly growing red up to the tips of his ears, his scary frown being matched by Francis' puffed frowning face.

"Enough now, both of you," Came a weary sigh from behind. It was Arthur's older brother, who still had yet to leave the household. Alfred finally collapsed on a chair near him; he thought he would end up prying the two away from each other if not for Haydn's timely intervention. "Arthur, do you have to do that?"

"Like you don't know what he is capable of!" he retorted, watching his brother carefully approach Francis. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Releasing him," Haydn stated the obvious, starting to free the small blond from his binds. Francis let out a relieved sigh, murmuring his thanks as he rubbed his wrists and leapt out of the chair, intent on heading towards the fridge behind them. Haydn straightened up, "What happened earlier is already done. I would most likely do the same thing as well, especially if it's a matter of grave importance."

The color hadn't completely faded from Arthur's face, "Well, this is a matter of grave importance. We also should have been in that conference."

"You worry too much. Our other two brothers still represent the United Kingdom; they will fill us in." Haydn watched as Francis tiptoed and tried to reach for something in the fridge. He quickly headed towards his direction, intent on helping him. "Here you go."

"Ah, merci~!"

Arthur let out a grunt and went back to browsing through his notes.

"This isn't about the meeting, is it?" His brother continued, as Francis skipped to the other side of the table to prepare himself a sandwich. Arthur couldn't help but notice that he took out a handful of ingredients, as if his appetite had quadrupled when he de-aged. "You are furious because he didn't seek your permission with Matthew."

"Uh...actually, Matt tried to called up," Alfred finally spoke, raising his hand a little. "It got cut off."

"Mm, I cut it off!" Francis exclaimed, pointing to Arthur with a spreading knife as he licked a thick dollop of mayonnaise from his fingers. "Knowing you, you would try to stop him! And my poor Mathieu would be too nice to turn you down."

"Well then just let me remind you that he is under my jurisdiction, under my governance, and he is my son!"

"-and mine as well!" Francis countered, slamming the spreading knife on the plate and before taking a vicious bite from his sandwich. "He is mine first, remember that!"

"You are putting him at risk with what you're doing!"

"You put him on risk all the time you go to your stupid wars! Ez only time you get to remember him-! Everything he did for you is voluntary-urk!" Francis started to choke on the piece he bit through, that the older Kirkland behind him had to massage his back while Arthur pulled his notes closer to his face, as if to finally end their argument.

"Uh, is he crying?" Alfred asked when the petite blonde started sniffling and rubbing his eyes. "Why is he crying? Dad?"

"The hell should I know?"

"I can't help it, I'm feeling emotional-" he sniffed, rubbing his eyes. "Mon dieu, why am I so affected? Arguments like this usually don't make me cry!"

"I cannot believe this!" He lifted both hands in exasperation, "Now you're hormonal?"

The other Kirkland lift an eyebrow, "Arthur are you sure you just de-aged him?"

Arthur gave his brother a complete look of disbelief. As he was about to say his rebuttal, a sniffling Francis jumped down from his chair and started to pull down his shorts and underwear. This caused a temporary ruckus with the Kirklands, and Alfred knew it was the best to not get involved, so he stood up from his chair and quickly distanced himself from the dining area.

At about the same time, his phone rang.

The number was anonymous but he answered it anyway. "Jones speaking..."

"Alfred!" came a gasp on the other line.

"Whoa, Matt!" His eyes widened, almost shouting when he recognized his brother's voice. He took a quick glance at the dining table where a flustered Haydn was trying to get Francis to pull up his underpants. He covered the receiver and headed outside. "Where are you? Pops is already getting worried!"

The background was noisy and Alfred could hear laughing and...loud music? "I-I'm fine!" Matthew struggled, as if the phone was slipping off his grasp. "The meeting went well. I got Papa's paperworks signed and approved already!"

"Dude that's not it, where are you? It's already getting late and the two here won't stop!"

"P-papa is there?"

"Pops dragged him here and Uncle is trying to get him put up his pants-" Alfred shrugged, he heard a female laughter and Matthew making an uncomfortable wincing sound. "-it's not as perverted as it sounds but, hey-what's going on? "

"Would you like me to handle this for you, Monsieur Bonnefoy~?" Alfred overheard a female voice with a thick French accent purring on the background.

"N-non?" Matthew sputtered, trying to get his fly closed. It proved to be a difficult task, with the dark-haired French stripper that Gilbert hired now hovering above him, Matthew trapped with her legs on both sides of his hips, holding him down to where he sat. She chuckled softly when he swatted her hands lightly as she reached for his zipper.

"Playing hard to get? Mmm...I like that in a man." Matthew felt himself growing tighter as she slowly lowered herself onto him, rubbing her bum playfully between his legs, her eyes growing heavily lidded. "It poses more of a challenge."

Matthew laughed uneasily, trying to think of a clever comeback, but nothing came.

"MATT? Matt! where are you?"

"I'm with Papa's-friends." He stammered, before the phone slipped off from his fingertips. The stripper had unlatched her top.

Matthew's jaw almost dropped to the ground. "Oh...mon dieu."

"You like what you see~?"

"Uhh-"

Before he knew it, his face was pressed between her breasts and she was running her fingertips all over his golden blond hair.

* * *

><p>"Something is wrong."<p>

"Huh? What is?" Antonio looked up from his bottle of cervesa and to his silver-haired comrade. They were sitting across the other side of the room, watching their comrade get serviced as they drank to their beers.

"You're so always so oblivious, man." Gilbert drawled, his eyes narrowing at Francis, who, felt that he was being watched, reluctantly gave the stripper a slap on the rump. Gilbert watched as he was smothered with kisses in kind. The Francis he knew would be the one initiating the act, not the other way around.

"No, I'm not-" Antonio frowned slightly, watching the stripper toy with their friend's hair. "It's just he is always the lucky one."

"Dude, have you seen how many women give you the Look? They're sending you signals! They're looking at your glorious ass for pete's sake!"

"Uh, no not really! What kind of look?"

Gilbert facepalmed. "Never mind."

The stripper teasingly ran her tongue on the loose lock of hair on Matthew's forehead and the next thing the duo heard was a surprised shout and the the woman having fallen on the floor.

"I'm sorry-!" Matthew was quick to reach for her and help her seat up, apologizing. "I don't mean to, I-it's a sensitive spot."

Gilbert stopped drinking his beer half-way and observed his comrade trying to cover the woman up before stumbling outside to go to a nearby comfort room.

Definitely not like Francis.

* * *

><p>"Wait-why are you here?"<p>

When Alfred informed Arthur that Matthew seemed to be in some 'strange' kind of trouble, the two wasted no time heading to Arthur's vehicle outside the garage. Alfred managed to track the mobile phone of his brother and just when they were getting into the car, Francis came rushing by, opening the door and leaping behind the passenger seat before Arthur could even buckle himself.

"He ez my son too, I have every right to be concerned!" He reasoned, his blond head barely visible from the mirror.

"It's an hour's drive from here, Francis," Arthur replied dryly, buckling himself furiously on his seat. "Don't you think it's way past your bed time already?"

Francis retorted by throwing the nearest item he could grab, a tissue box, at Arthur's head. The blond was able to quickly dodge it.

"Hey, hey! Guys, no fighting!" Alfred found himself prying a reddened Arthur who was reaching for the backseat, forcing Francis to be still so he could buckle him as well. "Come on! We need to get to Mattie before something happens!"

The two didn't respond and went back to their seats. Francis couldn't move much from where he was strapped and merely crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue to Arthur. The latter just turned around, his face still red.

"Didn't he tell you where he is?" Arthur asked as they began to drive towards the main road.

"Nah," Alfred shrugged "But I assume he's having a good time. But uh-probably too much of it."

"A good...time?"

"He said he was with your friends," Alfred glanced at Francis, "-does he mean uh..."

"He is with Gilbert and Antonio! Ahh it's the guys night out this weekend!" His round blue eyes widened before plopping behind his seat, relieved "He will be alright, it's only those two."

He waited for Arthur to protest, but the agitated blond just let out a long shuddering sigh. "You worry too much, he can handle himself. We did raise him well after all...Arthur..."

Then came a small exhausted yawn and about a minute of long silence. After what felt like forever, Arthur curiously glanced at the backseat, and realized that Francis had already fallen asleep.

"About time that frog fell asleep..." He grumbled, and then caught Alfred glimpsing over his shoulder. "-keep your eyes on the bloody road! I can't afford to have any scratches on this vehicle!"


	8. Chapter 7: Damage Control

**The Switch**

**{ Chapter 07 – Damage Control }**

**A/N:** I have a hard time thinking of titles, lol. I would like to thank my readers who still follow me through in spite of my month-long hiatus haha ;w; I got 2-3 stuff being written atm and its wearing me down orz. QueenofBeasts - if you are reading this, thank you for your insightful comment! It made my day...er week XD

* * *

><p><em>What's going on?<em>

Matthew faintly remembered the room spinning around, his Papa's friends laughing boisterously around him. After the embarrassing episode with the female stripper, Gilbert had prodded him to join them for a few bottles of beer. He immediately obliged, knowing he could handle drinking liquor quite well as much as the silver-haired man beside him. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

And now he finds himself lying down on his own small pool of vomit at Arthur's back seat, groaning and absolutely nauseous, and, apparently, almost near-naked underneath Alfred's jacket which was covering him.

"Wha...what..."

He blinked his eyes wearily and felt them sting, his head immediately starting to throb heavily. He got a vicious hangover? Since when? All he remember drinking was beer!

"You idiot-! You did what?" Arthur's loud voice rang in his ears as Matthew tried to focus. His father figure was but a blurred shape standing several feet away from him, shaking somebody in a black shirt. He squinted his eyes; that must be Gilbert.

"Ehh, we do it all the time! It makes everything more fun!" Gilbert shrugged, hardly unnerved by the Englishman's temper or the fact that his grip was tightening on the collar of his shirt. He casually looked over his shoulder.

"Right, Antonio?"

The Spaniard had passed out; his back slumped against a chair.

"Oh he looks like he is having a jolly good time alright!" Arthur bristled, finally releasing him. "Everything that happened right now, nobody is to know. This does not get out, you hear me?"

"Dude, how should I know he isn't Francis? You could've sent a note to everyone about what happened!"

"It's complicated!"

"Tch, I'm just sayin'! Oh, hey there little fella...!"

"Gilbert that is..."

"AAAHH!"

"That is Francis."

"M-mein gott...my balls..."

"Papa?"

Matthew could only make out faint blobs of figures as the pounding sensation in his head started to worsen. But, he could definitely make out his little Papa, who had just given Gilbert a swift kick between the legs.

"-dude!" He heard another voice, coming from behind him. Before Matthew could turn his head to look up, his brother's face popped up from behind. "Haha, That was unbelievable! Who knew you could strip THAT fast!"

_K-knew what? Strip?_

_What the hell did he do?_

Arthur started to storm back towards his direction, "Alfred!"

"Yeah?"

He was dragging the young Francis by the arm before giving the reluctant blond a small push towards the vehicle. "Take Francis and Matthew back home. I will take care of this."

"Angleterre, don't do anything stupid!"

Arthur didn't answer and after a minute of silence, Alfred lifted Francis off the ground and dragged him towards the front seat.

"If pops is not saying anything, it's serious business. We have to leave," Alfred said, buckling an annoyed Francis. "He worries for Mattie, after all-"

"What about me?" he asked, as Alfred closed the doors and got behind the wheel, turning the keys to start the ignition.

"Well uh, of course he does!"

Matthew shifted, still too weak and intoxicated. The way his Papa responded to Alfred's statement sounded like he was genuinely hurt. Was there a conflict that he didn't know about?

He could no longer keep his eyes open though, and as they headed out towards the main road, the last thing he remembers seeing was the visible rain drops falling from outside of his window before sleep came to consume his body.

* * *

><p><em>In the Kirkland residence<em>

"Mon dieu, you're finally awake!"

Matthew woke up to a weight pressing against his torso. As his eyes slowly blinked open, he realized the dizziness and the headache was already completely gone. Sleepily, he focused within his surroundings as he stirred within the sheets: He is in Arthur's guest room. He is completely sure of that when he sees a small portrait of a unicorn by the wall.

And also the youthful face of his Papa staring wide-eyed over him.

"Papa...!" He groaned, slowly sitting up as Francis rolled to the other side. "You need to stop sitting on me like that!"

"I am worried!" Francis pouted, leaping down from the bed and heading towards the curtains, pushing them apart to let natural light in. Matthew shielded his eyes. "Do you know how long you have been asleep?"

The sun light entering the room were warm rays of orange. "Uhm, the whole day? Is it already afternoon?"

"Since two days ago!" Francis threw his arms in the air. Matthew's eyes widened. "You were knocked out really bad. I should have known that Gilbert would do that!" His papa was beyond furious. Matthew, still in shock, watched him pace the room to and fro. "Of all nights! I always tell him not to pull those kind of surprises, because I won't remember anything! He does not listen!"

"H-he drugged me?"

"It's Rohypnol, I take it sometimes when I can't sleep," Francis pointed out, "But if you take a whole lot of it with booze? You wouldn't even remember what you did!"

"D-did I do something wrong?"

Francis stopped briefly and a small impish smile curved his lips. "Au contraire! I might say..." he skipped towards his bed, tiptoed and rested his arms at the side.. "-I was sooo proud of you!"

"That's not good, Papa," Matthew straightened up. "I remember being wrapped with Alfred's jacket. Did I end up somewhat naked?"

Francis' blue depths lit up with silent amusement as he placed his palms excitedly underneath his chin. Matthew did not like where this was going. "No...oh no, I didn't!"

"You can't deny your genes, mon fils!" He giggled like an excited child, hopping back onto the bed once again and crawling towards the sputtering blond. "Who knew there is a maple leaf big enough to cover what's down there! Ohoho, you're just like your old man!"

Somehow his Papa's mirthful laughter sounded creepier with his young form. "No...! I'm not hearing you, this is not happening!" He clamped his hands over his ears and that was when he felt something unusual. Matthew realized his face was smooth.

"But you were a bad drunk; I think you got that from Angleterre," Francis pointed out while Matthew started to become distracted. "Ah! While you were unconscious, I shaved your face. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Matthew quickly pushed himself out of the sheets, only to discover that he was clothed already, wearing a matching pair of pale blue pajamas. "I know you would panic waking up naked, so I cleaned you up as well!"

"Yes, t-thanks," he mumbled, sitting up and glancing at a nearby mirror. He rubbed his palm against his cheek; his face was indeed shaven smooth and clean. His physique still remained the same though, that of a mature adult with body hair like his Papa.

"You also shouldn't worry about what happened two days ago. Arthur has that taken care of," His Papa said quietly, crawling to sit beside him. "He made sure no one else would remember," he paused, "Well, except for the four of us that is."

"And I got it on video too!" Alfred's voice suddenly boomed, catching the two by surprise. Francis practically leapt into Matthew's arms, the latter quickly taking hold of him before he fell down the farther edge of the bed.

"Wah!" He frowned, quickly pushing himself up when he realized he was being held in his son's protective embrace. His face flushed brightly. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! Have you even heard of knocking?"

"Aww, you guys look cute like that! Glad to see you're already awake, Matt!"

"This ez not funny, Alfred!" Francis jumped down from the bed and ran towards him to grab the phone, but Alfred merely lifted his arm up, watching the de-aged Francis jump up and down amusingly. "Your phone, hand it over!"

"Ah come on, you also want to see it again!" The taller blond grinned, "And I want Matt to at least see it before I delete it."

"Alfred!" Matthew gasped, "You didn't make copies of that, did you?"

"Bro, Dad would skin me alive if I EVER put this online!" Alfred headed towards his brother, plopping casually beside him. "It's like just about less than a minute-" he pressed the play button and showed it to Matt, who upon seeing it briefly for a few seconds, groaned loudly before collapsing back on the bed. "Dude, you're never this WILD when we have our drinking sessions! Even when you're hanging out with Morgen!"

"-I was drugged!" he groaned, placing his palms on his face. "I didn't know what I was doing! Delete it!"

"Oui, delete it!" Francis echoed. Alfred looked up to meet his furious blue stare, the fact that his tiny face was puffed up made him look even more adorable. Impatiently, he snatched the phone from Alfred's grip. "Tch, nevermind! I will do it!"

"You sure you don't want to see it again?" Alfred asked, as Francis handed him back his phone. "I thought you liked it!"

The petite blond glanced at a very embarrassed Matthew getting up from the bed. "Once is enough," he mumbled, watching his son quietly make his way to the bathroom, probably to lock himself within it. "I was only amused for a moment, but I won't have something like this going around! Your brother does not deserve it; he already has enough problems being mistaken as you."

Alfred didn't respond back immediately. When he finally spoke, it was with reluctance. With a short sigh, he stood up and placed the phone in his pocket. "So uhm, is dad still angry with you?"

"Non...I don't know, he hasn't talked to me yet," He answered quietly, "He just quietly moves around and ignores me. How about you?"

"Really? But he hasn't left the library room with uncle ever since we got home!" Alfred said, his mind beginning to wonder as his hand froze on the doorknob to ponder. "The last thing he told me was to go back and get all of your stuff and that everybody was going to stay here from now on."

"Did he now?" Francis frowned, approaching the taller blond and looking up at him. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"I thought you knew!" Alfred paused, "-wait, that's confusing now."

Francis furiously stormed outside, "I should have known, he ez using magic to avoid me!" Alfred followed the petite blond head down the stairs. He was harder to catch up with though due to his small size. "He have casted an illusion of himself, that I'm sure," Alfred stopped abruptly as Francis headed to a figure lounging by the living room. "Angleterre! Arthur!"

Alfred blinked a couple of times. Sitting casually on the long sofa and as visible and clear as day was Arthur, sipping his tea as he browsed through a magazine. He looked up at the mention of his name.

He looked a little startled at the angry sight of Francis. "Francis?"

"The real Arthur won't let me do this!" He whispered with the back of his palm as he glanced at Alfred. He approached Arthur and without warning, climbed on him, content with sitting on his lap with both of his small slender legs on each of his opposite sides. He giggled and bounced a little.

"W-what the?" 'Arthur' sputtered, almost spilling his tea. "Get down this instant!"

"-and this~" Francis snuggled closer, making a purring sound as he pressed himself close to the reddening Arthur. Alfred could only watch in disbelief.

"Oh, mon amour~" he purred, nuzzling his face in Arthur's chest, like a cat. "I need a hug..." he sighed, as the hand holding the tea cup began to tremble substantially. "I'm not feeling well, will you comfort me?"

If that's the real Arthur, he'll push the de-aged Francis off of him at any given moment, Alfred observed, his brow twitching. Before Francis could rub himself any more dangerously closer, a sudden loud bang came from within the house.

"That's it!" The door from the library upstairs swung wide open and banged against the wall. Alfred gaped when a very furious and OTHER Arthur stormed towards them downstairs, wearing near identical clothes like the other, only shabbier. He quickly pulled Francis by the neck collar and away from his 'other' self. "I can't take it anymore! You're ruining my concentration!"

"Ah, I was right~!" Francis chirped, unfazed as he steadied himself on the carpeted floor. "You used magic to duplicate yourself! You are avoiding me!"

"W-what?" Alfred sputtered, looking alternately at the grinning de-aged Frenchman and the silently fuming Arthur.

"Don't give me that look!" Arthur bristled at the other confused blond, as he released the giggling Francis. "I have to do this for everyone's sake."

"You mean him?" He pointed at the sofa, but the other 'Arthur' had suddenly vanished into thin air. Alfred looked around. "Wait, where did he go?"

"Ez the case with Arthur's doppelgangers!" Francis piped in, stepping forward. He placed his arms at his back, swinging a little to and fro as he explains. "I have seen this spell before! You see, 'he' is still a part of Arthur. What his doppelganger feels, he also feels. But once he gets too overwhelmed..."

"Alright, I-I get it.!" Alfred lifted his hands, halting Francis from continuing any further. He faced Arthur. "Dad, was that really necessary? You could have just told us that you're going to be busy..."

"YES, I could have told you," Arthur spat, trying to calm his nerves down while Francis bounced past him. He pulled him back. "But the deception is necessary. Somebody has to keep watch of these two at all times-the minute either of us let our guard down, he-"

"I can't be trusted?" Francis pushed the rough hand by his shirt's collar away. The two looked down; he never felt so small in his life. He glared at Arthur. "That's what you're going to say, isn't it?"

"Well, you are not exactly helping!" Arthur snapped back, his face growing increasingly red. "This will be the last time this ever happens. Dear Lord, have you no care to what happens to your son?"

"O-of course I do! Do you think I wanted zis to happen? These are all unfortunate coin-"

"Look, Francis," Arthur frowned, pointing a finger accusingly at his direction. Was Francis mocking him by giving him that sad puppy look?  
>"If you really want what is best for him, you will stay out and JUST let me handle this. Like what I always do."<p>

_All of this is your fault_. Francis swore he heard Arthur whisper those words. Or were they his thoughts? Sometimes as nations, they could sense what others were trying to say more acutely than normal humans. He grew still for a minute, giving Arthur the chance to speak once more. Sighing wearily, the Englishman glanced over his shoulder. "Alfred?"

In what felt like forever, Alfred lifted his head. It was always uncomfortable to see the two argue in front of him. "Yeah?"

"Haydn would also like to ask you a few questions upstairs. I need you to come with me."

"Uh, alright," He nodded, following Arthur quickly as the older man turned his back around, dismissing any further conversation with his former rival.

However, Alfred couldn't help but still feel sorry for him. Anything concerning Matthew has always been a sensitive subject. The de-aged blond tried to show he was not affected with by it, but his blue eyes betrayed him. "Hey Francis...are you going to be alright?"

"Oui..." he nodded curtly, before looking up and trying his best to laugh. "I can manage; this ez nothing! I have gone through so much worse!"

"Well, I'm just asking since, well, remember last time..."

Alfred never got to finish his statement, when without warning, Francis ran by and past him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN notes:** Morgen is one of the several suggested names for Netherlands to Himaruya (I find it awkward just calling him 'Ned' idk.). And for those who wondered what Matthew looked like during his drunken haze in this chapter, go to claudiakat in deviantart and look for the 'APH: Merci' file.

(Note: It's on filter) But with more man hair. He is still his Papa's son after all, ahohohon.

Also, sorry for making this seems short. I just want to write out one of those awkward morning after's. I will make it up with some fluffy moments for the next one. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 8: The Calm Before The Storm

**The Switch  
><strong>

**{ Chapter 08 - The Calm Before The Storm }**

**A/N:** Oh god, sorry for the VERY late update. I guess you guys think this fic is dead huh? Not really, I have been very busy the past month and I got distracted slightly with some Tiger & Bunny (nngh. Bunnaby.) I promised myself once I finished the series I get back to business orz.

To those who wanted to see the drunken naked mattie link from the previous chapter, visit notre-priere in tumblr.

This is also unbetad by the way, I will beta it once I have time. I needed this to be up for now.

* * *

><p>He might have gotten everybody worried by now, Matthew thought. He have taken a moment to let the embarrassment subside and decided he might as well take a bath. Emerging fresh and dripping wet from the shower, he reached out for his towel and glasses.<p>

"Mathieu...!"

"Waah!" Matthew jumped back at the sight of his Papa standing in front of him. Before those wide blue eyes drift down his lower regions, Matthew quickly grabbed the nearby towel and wrapped it around his waist. Francis was quick to hand him his glasses as he clumsily reached for it. "Papa, this is not funny! Stop surprising me like that!"

"You didn't really locked the door so I let myself in." He answered; Matthew can sense the tinge of sadness in his voice. He looked up. "I want to ask you something."

"C-can't this wait outside till I get dressed?" He sputtered, adjusting his lenses at the bridge of his nose before giving his small Papa a gentle push. "Papa, you need to-"

Francis was quick to swat his hand, visibly upset. "Don't push me around like zat! You don't do zat to your Papa!"

"I need to get dressed! Please, not one of your fits again!" Matthew sighed, giving him another push. Francis let out an angry scowl, but with his form, came out sounding short of a child's shriek. With his patience running thin and remembering Arthur's advice, Matthew wordlessly scooped his tiny Papa from the bathroom floor.

"Put me down!" He struggled, kicking his legs about, his arms flailing. "I demand you, put me down!"

Matthew avoided his hand that almost hit him. "Papa, please! Don't be stubborn! Ow!"

"Do you love me, mon fils?" Francis said in the most pitiful voice he can muster, knowing well that only his dearest Matthew can't resist it. He looked at his handsome face with large blue shiny eyes.

"Of course, I do! You are my Papa!" Matthew huffed, rolling his eyes, it didn't work. He didn't put him down, his voice sounding tired. "What is this about?"

He pressed his digit on Matthew's bare chest, idly drawing circular patterns on it. His son drew in his breath sharply, finding it ticklish. "You know, if not for sourcils-," Francis started, pouting. "I could have done so much more raising you!"

"We have gone through this before, I am both your son and I love you both." He tried putting him down, but the petite Francis held on him tight. "Papa-I thought you...? I'm not carrying you again!"

He suddenly became quiet, hardly even budging. Matthew have to shake him a little. "Papa?"

Have he fallen asleep?

It was then Matthew heard his brother's voice from outside. "Matt? Hey, Matt?"

"Yeah I'm here!" He called out, emerging from the room, to find Alfred have reached the stairs already. "I'm alright, I just took a bath."

"Is Francis-?" Alfred then noticed the small blond head snuggled in Matthew's embrace. "Oh..."

"He...he just fell asleep in my arms." Matthew said uneasily, adjusting his tiny papa in his arms. "It seems he exhaust easily in this form."

"Heh, we are also like that when were younger. Remember?" His brother grinned, leaning and touch the sleeping Francis in Matthew's arms. He looks so peaceful, if not, innocent. "He just looks like you, when he sleeps like th-"

"Alfred!" came a slightly frustrated voice from the above floor, making Alfred jolt in surprise. "Don't keep your uncle waiting!"

"Oh yeah, Dad needs me...!" He straightened up, turning around. "They need me for some spell stuff so...catch you later!"

Matthew nodded, "Yeah, I also need to get dressed as well, later."

* * *

><p><em>Few hours later<em>

"Oh dear, my eyes!" Francis woke up quickly when he realized he have a hard time opening his eyes. He feels them up slowly. They felt puffy. He immediately got down from the bed and rushed to the bathroom. Tiptoeing to see his image in the mirror, he saw the faint dark circles underneath his eyes. Strangely, they don't look as bad as he thought they're going to be, another one of the perks being his younger self.

Cold compress will sooth it down, he thought, slowly stepping outside. He glanced at the grandfather clock outside, it's almost evening and nobody seems to be around.

Oh right, Arthur and his Alfred are probably still upstairs in the library room trying to sort out the spells, he remembered. But where is his Mathieu?

"Mathieu?" He called out, padding his bare feet at the carpeted steps of the stairs as he headed down. No one is in the living room. He turned to his right, heading towards the kitchen. He got to be there. Francis followed the faint scent of freshly cooked food, he cannot put a finger on what it is but seems to be something warm and sweet. He nearly jumped when he felt the cold tiles beneath him as he enters the cooking area. "Mathieu?"

"Papa?" came a voice at the farther end of the kitchen. Francis turned to his left, entering the adjoining dining area. Mathew is by the dining table, fixing himself a rather large leafy sandwich. Francis' blue eyes widen, he cannot see his lad but instead was distracted by the stack of ham and other assorted slices of meat and condiments beside him..

"Papa, over here!" Matthew waved a hand, as he took to a bite from his rather large sandwich. Francis approached him quickly. Why didn't he wear his slippers? He internally grumbled, as he struggled to sit at the cushioned chair. Getting to do simple things has now become an arduous task with his size.

And embarrassing. He frowned as his son smiled and simply lifted him up to his chair.

"You just have woken up, are you hungry?" he offered, pointing at the half-opened bag of bread and meat slices. Francis merely shook his head.

"It's so funny, no?" He finally spoke, leaning forward, with his arms at the table, laying his head on the side so he can quietly observe his now grown son. "I should be the one looking out for you and yet you are the one doing this for me."

"It's just...a natural instinct I guess." Matthew answered reluctantly, dabbing his mouth lightly with a napkin as his Papa observed his table manners. "Although it did took me a while to adjust to this-older body. I guess you don't have much problem with yours, Papa. You already have been young once."

"Hmph, zat's what you think, mon fils." He swung his feet, crossing his legs and arms with a pout. "Sure, I have ze energy to go around and eat all the things I haven't touched for ages, but mon dieu, I can't even sip my favorite wine and I fall asleep quickly!"

"And during the afternoons too." Matthew pointed out, watching in silent amusement when his tiny Papa frowned at him. "Well, you needed it-you have high energy, you spend it out easily too." His eyes followed Francis reaching for a small bowl of ice cubes. "You also need assistance-with a few things." he pushed the bowl towards him. The blond is quick to take a handful of ice and wrap them with a napkin.

"You don't have to remind me." Francis mumbled, placing the cold compress alternately on each eye as Matthew curiously stared at him. "It's a beauty regimen, Mathieu. My eyes are tired and swollen."

Matthew paused, thinking. "So Papa that means you want to change things back the way they were."

"Of course!" he answered, peeking with one eye as he dabbed the ice compress to another. "It is fun for awhile but you have to know, it ez unnatural! Why do you ask?"

"Well um it's just I have been thinking, if we both wanted to change back, the spell will probably undo itself."

"This ez not a movie, my dear Mathieu!" Francis slammed the ice compress to the table, nearly making the other blond jump. "It's not the first time Angleterre have casted de-aging spell on someone. Take it from Papa, only sourcils can undo his own spell!"

He glanced at his son's surprised expression, before glumly placing the compress on his eye again. "-now if he can only remember what spell he specifically casted on."

"Alfred told me earlier that Dad and Uncle are close to sorting it out." Matthew spoke softly, finishing the last morsel of his sandwich. He drank from his cold glass of soda, wiping his mouth asking, "Was there any progress?"

"They haven't informed me about anything yet." Francis answered, "Not until they figured out how to turn us back they won't..." he noticed a strange ball of minty green fur near the bottle of soda near Matthew's arm. "What ez his pet doing here?"

"Dad's um...last resort." Matthew answered, stroking the minty furry animal. "He couldn't have us roaming around by ourselves. The tracking device didn't work that well, you foiled his double and-"

"Oui, oui...I get it. He doesn't trust me.." Francis sighed, slumping in front of the table, like a tired child. "What happened few days ago was the last straw for him."

He watch Matthew's lips quiver, as if he is trying to say something and Francis anticipates it, perching his head a little at the crook of his folded arm. No words came. He sighed, resting his head back again. Sometimes he wishes his boy would speak out his mind more often.

"It's not entirely your fault, Papa." he finally spoke, "There are things you just can't predict...happening."

There was a brief moment of silence before Francis' stomach slowly and loudly growled. He didn't realize it is almost seven and noticed the amused expression slowly creeping on his son's face.

"I won't have zat for dinner." He frowned, glaring at the meat slices and the condiments before pushing himself away from the table. "I know a place where we can eat outside, ez just half an hour drive from here." He eyed the small furry creature, before curving his lips into a small impish smile. "Your 'father' won't mind if we go there, he also knows of the place."

"But I just ate!"

"Non, that does not constitute as a meal! Remember what I said about keeping that body of yours healthy with real food!" Francis dismissed Matthew's groan of disapproval, hopping down his chair. Before heading outside the room, he looked over his shoulder. "You don't have to worry about anything, it would be my treat!"


End file.
